Speed Limits
by Jack B. Nimble
Summary: [Complete!] Pietro escapes a bloodbath in Denver and turns to Hank and Jean for help...but Magneto has something else planned for his son, as well as the survivors of the carnage. Not for the squeamish.
1. Intrusion in the Night

Author's Note:  
Greetings.  
  
Don't bother me about characterization. There is a method to my madness. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the story. And leave reviews. Non-profit fanfic authors thrive on the buggers. Since we obviously don't charge for these, we settle for basking in reader reviews.  
  
No, really. We do. I swear.  
  
Synopsis:  
While Professor X and most of the staff and students at the Institute are gone for the summer, Jean and Hank stumble on a sinister plot revolving around Magneto and his son. A/U: Just forget about that whole Apocolypse storyline. The kids are too young to handle world threats like that. Just pretend the Fantastic Four or the Avengers have it covered. Please.  
  
General Warning:  
I'm a HUGE fan of Kurt and Pietro, so they will probably get more 'screen' time. Probably together. Heh. Heh. Heh. Pun fully intended. If you don't like the idea of the speedster and the elf falling for one another (eventually), hit the back button quickly and forget you ever read this.  
  
Disclaimer:  
I don't own any of these characters. If I did, it wouldn't be a cartoon. It'd be a WB show starring a hoard of really attractive people with a special guest appearance by Patrick Stewart as Xavier. And I'd also be rich, as X-Men is a big franchise.  
Instead, I'll settle for borrowing these folks for a little action, adventure, romance, drama, comedy and the rest. Seems only fair.  
  
Cheers.  
  
---------  
  
It was a dark and, for summer in Bayville, rather calm and balmy night.  
You see, Ororo was out of town.  
For that matter, most of Xavier's students and staff were gone for the summer. Jean found herself riding herd on the two or three that were left, assisting Mr. McCoy in the upkeep of the huge mansion and generally enjoying the peace and solitude. It was about an hour after midnight on a quiet night in June and Jean was curled up on a couch with a well-worn copy of 'Wuthering Heights,' losing herself in a romance novel that had an actual plot.  
Or rather, she was trying.  
Something nagged at the back of her mind. After realizing that she'd just read the same sentence four times in a row, she groped for a bookmark and closed the book. Before she could figure out what was bothering her, a familiar sound echoed through the sitting room.  
[Bamf!]  
"Jean!" she heard Kurt's voice behind her. It had to be Kurt. No one else pronounced her name with a soft 'j' in it. The sulfurous odor creeping through the room was another good indicator. She stood up. The lanky blue guy was dressed in his nightclothes - a faded pair of shorts and a t-shirt that read, 'got fuzz?' - and more than a little wild around the eyes.  
"What's wrong?" she asked him.  
Kurt opened his mouth a couple times without saying anything and instead just pointed to one of the portraits on the wall over the fireplace.  
Jean blinked and looked at the picture. Oh, right. One of the Professor's new computer thingies. She took the control from the mantle and passed it to the younger mutant. Kurt fiddled with the control mechanism for a moment. As Jean watched the picture change to one of the security cameras covering the front yard, she wondered what had spooked Kurt so much.  
She took a second glance at him while she waited for him to finish. Ah. He must have seen something on the kitchen monitors or out the window. She hadn't noticed it when he popped in, but there were crumbs on his facial fur and a large spreading milk stain on his shirt. Hm. What could possibly have startled Kurt during a cookie run? Wait, no, better question. What startled him enough that he'd be shaking like a large, blue rabbit?  
Placing her hand on his arm she asked, "Are you all right?" The boy visibly jumped, looking up at her with huge eyes.  
"Ja. Nein. Ach, ich weiß nicht." Kurt busied himself with the control, absently wiping at his face with a trembling hand. Oh dear. Jean shook him firmly enough to get his attention.  
"What? Kurt, you look like you've seen a ghost." She had to strain to listen to his reply.  
"Nein, nicht ein Geist. Dieses war schlechter als ein Geist."  
"English, Kurt! English!"  
"Sorry, Jean. It vasn't a ghost. It vas vorse than a ghost," he told her. "Here, see for yourself." She turned back to the painting, which was actually a high-definition computer screen. What on Earth was that? She could barely make out anything on the screen, to be honest. She could see the front gate in the background, and the fountain in the middle, but the rest was a black and blue blur with a lighter patch on the top. Hmm.  
Closing her eyes, she quested out with her mind.  
Kurt registered immediately. A little further out was Mr. McCoy in his basement lab. Bobby and Kitty in the rec room on the second floor. She made a mental note to tell them off for staying up late. Where.? Oh, right, Scott was in Hawaii this weekend.  
"Jean?" she heard Kurt say as though from a distance. She waved him off, pushing beyond the mansion walls.  
Five minutes later, Jean opened her eyes. Her mind had skittered across something out near the gazebo, but she hadn't recognized it as a known threat and so had dismissed it. Otherwise, the grounds were clear.  
She looked back at the monitor, thinking. Let's see what happens when we slow this down a bit, she thought. Taking the control box from Kurt, she punched in a couple commands.  
The computer obediently started cycling through the different cameras. Hm. Whatever or whoever this was had moved toward C-09 for a few seconds. She switched over to that camera and moved frame-by-frame through the occurrence. Fourteen frames in, she found a good image and ordered the computer to enhance it  
"Mein Gott. Is that Pietro?" She had almost forgotten Kurt was in the room.  
"I.I," Jean took a deep breath and ordered her stomach to calm down. "I think so."  
At least, she was pretty sure it was Pietro. It was difficult to tell, actually. She'd never actually seen the white-haired boy with anything other than a sneer of contempt on his face. Raw terror was a new look for him. The fact that he was covered in gore was a little more upsetting, though.  
Just a little.  
  
[Bamf!]  
Kurt materialized on top of the gazebo, clutching the little wooden cupola with all five limbs. He squinted into the darkness, balancing on top of the structure like a furry blue gargoyle. People always underestimated his night senses. It had to be more than 100 meters to the swimming pool, but he could almost make out the buttons on Herr McCoy's coat at this distance. Jean wasn't any less difficult to spot in the front yard.  
He turned around completely, straining his eyes and ears for any sign of Pietro. Just thinking about what he'd seen on the monitor made him shudder. Herr McCoy hadn't helped either. "There's a little over five quarts of blood in the human body. If I had to guess, I'd say more than one person bled out on him." Exactly why the older mutant had decided that knowledge would be helpful was beyond him.  
A noise caught his attention and he stiffened. Something.eh? There it was again - a light squeaking noise. Not a mouse, Kurt decided. This sounded metallic. A thought occurred to him and he leaned over the edge of the roof to look into the gazebo, hanging onto the cupola with his tail.  
Aha! There was a body on the swing, which was rocking back and forth slightly in the light summer breeze. Silvery-white hair. It had to be Pietro. Kurt reached out a tentative finger and poked at the other boy. No response. He swung down, flipping with practiced ease to land on his feet, and crept around to the front of the little wooden structure. Sure enough, it was Pietro.  
"Hallo?" he said softly. "Pietro?" Well, the other boy wasn't dead. He was breathing rapidly, if shallowly. Kurt reached out to shake Pietro, whose eyes were wide and staring. No response. Again.  
In his defense, he'd never encountered anyone in a state of shock before. Nor had he ever been in the presence of quite that much blood at one time. As luck would have it, however, he had stayed up late the previous weekend to watch the really bad horror movie marathon on TNT. Twelve b-grade American horror flicks, dozens of flesh-eating zombies, hundreds of victims, veritable buckets of blood and gore, and one blue- furred, very creeped out adolescent mutant at the end of the whole thing. Jean had had to coax him off the chandelier in the kitchen with a plate of cookies and a promise to smack him if he ever thought of watching something like that again. And so, with that marathon leaping to the front of his mind, he did what anyone would do given the situation.  
Kurt started to panic. He'd heard of zombies, of course, but figured them to be a Caribbean fairy tale. Now he was face to face with one. Ach! He jerked back a step and slipped on the step, falling out of the gazebo. Scrambling to his feet, he looked around wildly and ran for the backyard, figuring that Herr McCoy would be the biggest and best thing to hide behind in case the Pietro-zombie tried to gnaw on someone's face.  
  
'The pool and patio is clear,' Hank thought at Jean. 'No sign of him.'  
'He's not out here in front, either,' she thought back at him. Hank turned at the sound of scrabbling claws on concrete, a sound marginally higher than nails on a chalkboard in his personal list of least favorite things to listen to. 'Wait,' came Jean's thought. 'I think Kurt may have found him.'  
"No kidding, lady," Hank muttered under his breath.  
Kurt looked spooked by something and the only nasty thing - other than Hank - on the property at the time was Pietro. According to the cameras, anyway. Perhaps he'd make a point of prowling around for an hour or two after they figured out what was wrong.  
"Herr McCoy!" Kurt exclaimed, voice cracking. "He's in das Gazebo!"  
Hank nodded and lumbered toward the other side of the mansion.  
'I heard,' Jean thought at him. 'I'm on my way.'  
Telepathy, Hank decided, needed some sort of off switch.  
[Bamf! Bamf!]  
He looked down at the smaller mutant, who was now carrying a baseball bat.  
"What's that for?" he rumbled.  
"I found Pietro, but it's not Pietro," Kurt told him in all seriousness. "It's a zombie."  
Hank pinched himself. No, he wasn't dreaming. Sighing, he continued to the side yard.  
  
As it turns out, Kurt was wrong. Jean and Hank weren't able to convince him of that, however, and so he insisted on standing guard outside the door to the little medical clinic with that same aluminum bat. Jean wondered just how he expected to stop the 'zombie' if it was able to take out both of the older mutants, especially Hank. She wasn't up for an argument, however.  
Pietro looked wretched. It wasn't hard, considering he was covered head to toe in blood. Hank hadn't been able to get him to move and ended up carrying him inside the mansion, muttering something about a shower. Once they'd gotten the younger boy into the clinic, Jean had peeled off his sodden shirt and made to throw it away.  
"No, don't. I want to run some tests on that," Hank had said.  
Fine by her. All she wanted to do was wash her hands afterward. Repeatedly. Pietro had let them scrub off the blood that had soaked through the thin t-shirt without so much as blinking. He just continued staring at whoever was in front of him at the time. Or through them, actually. Jean had gotten a reaction out of him when she'd scrubbed hard at a crusted clot on the boy's side just under his ribs. He'd winced in pain, but still looked through her.  
"My God," she whispered. Hank leaned over her with a fresh rag.  
"Those look rather deep," he growled. He handed her a little spray bottle of alcohol.  
"Remind you of anyone?" she asked him.  
"Sabretooth."  
  
The cleaning alone took over an hour. At the end Pietro was carried, the side wound freshly bandaged, into one of the spare bedrooms. Hank slipped him under the blanket Jean provided, then lifted the end of the bed with one hand and slipped a couple telephone books under the end.  
"What are you doing?" Jean asked him.  
"Keeping his feet elevated."  
"Oh. I didn't know you were supposed to do that. Where did you learn this sort of thing, if you don't mind my asking?"  
"I was a Boy Scout a long time ago," he said. Oh. Well, that made sense. She had no idea if high school teachers were trained in first aid or not.  
They had decided to take turns watching Pietro through the night, in case he took a turn for the worse. Left alone with the boy, Jean couldn't help but wonder what worse could possibly be. He was already cold and clammy, despite the thick blanket. She had insisted on getting something for him to wear under the covers, though. Hank had said that clothing would just restrict the flow of blood, but Jean drew the line at babysitting a naked teenage boy. They had compromised. She dug up a really long t-shirt (her winter pajamas, actually) with Winnie the Pooh on the front and back and let Hank slip it over Pietro's head. Scott had given her that shirt as a joke. She wondered what he'd say if he knew where it was now.  
Jean smirked to herself.  
Between the cold skin and the grayish cast to the boy's thin features, she found herself worried enough to attempt to read his mind. This surprised her, considering the fractious relationship between the Brotherhood and the kids at the institute. On the other hand, she thought, it also reassured her that she was doing the right thing. Even if she didn't particularly like the person she was helping at the time.  
She laid her hands on his cold temples and closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind. She recoiled almost at once, jerking back into the chair. Pietro's thoughts were chaotic enough that she could feel a headache coming on. Flashes of Sabretooth and Magneto shot through her mind, but she couldn't make head or tail of them. She drew in a deep breath, trying to settle herself and looked down.  
Pietro looked up at her, eyes rimmed with shadows.  
"Oh! You're awake?" she squeaked, kicking herself for stating the obvious. "What happened?"  
Pietro swallowed and blinked slowly. Jean had to lean close to hear him as he whispered, "Dad.is.pissed."  
Before she could respond, he closed his eyes and faded. Alarmed, she reached into his mind and found him to be asleep - deeply, but normally.  
Hm. Dad is pissed? Magneto must be up to something, but what? Jean looked up at the clock on the wall. Nearly three in the morning. She shook her head. No, this couldn't wait.  
'Professor,' she mentally called across three time zones. 'We have a problem.' 


	2. Author's Note: A Response to My Readers

Greetings.  
  
I've been wondering if I'd get more reviews if I actually acknowledged those people who have been gracious enough to write them... I relish every single one of them, I should note, even if I don't ever mention it. At any rate, thanks to the following people (so far):  
  
Beth - Need more info? Keep reading! Hate to give away the plot before it's been published. :)  
  
furygrrl: Woot! Three reviews! Guess this makes you a fan, eh? The story idea isn't terribly unique, but the execution of it should be. I try not to plagiarize whenever possible. ;) As for the grouping, that was intentional. There just aren't that many fics out there dealing with people OTHER than 'the usual suspects.' Glad you liked the dialogue in chapter two. Regarding Frost and Psylocke...well, it should make things interesting when Xavier's students find out about the Hellfire Club, shouldn't it? As if Magneto wasn't enough to cope with, eh? I do like bringing characters from the comic pages into the Evo universe, yes, but I don't like dragging in the same overdone characters I'm used to seeing around here, so I chose some of the lesser-known ones. Moira MacTaggart was the only exception. Rather hard to get into depth in any sort of X-Men fic without her.  
  
tonianne: Glad you're enjoying it. I've written more and will certainly continue this. Probably have another storyline to take up where it leaves off, actually. There's a lot of ways to go with Evo.  
  
Sailor X1: Glad you are enjoying this fic. I hope you didn't think I was asking for a beta reader, though. I don't let people read what I've written until it's ready to be published somewhere - just ask my agent. He's convinced I'm somehow paranoid about my fiction for some reason. Might have something to do with the fact that he doesn't get to read any of it until I'm ready to shop it around to publishing houses. Glad you're enjoying my Pietro and Kurt. They're fairly hard to get right.  
  
talichernin: I thought I recognized that username! Taking time out from Everwood, eh? Thanks for the compliment on the writing. Ja, ich spreche deutsch.  
  
So, anyway...glad everyone is enjoying this. There's more on the way, probably later today in fact. However, I could use a little help in one tiny area. You may have noticed the inside joke (Kurt's t-shirts) I've been mentioning in every chapter. I'm starting to run dry in terms of ideas, so if you have a Kurt-esque t-shirt idea, please send it to me at ejm@dridus.com. I'll credit those ideas I use to the appropriate party.  
  
Cheers, folks.  
  
Jack B. Nimble 


	3. Tears in the Morning

Two mornings later, Jean and Hank found themselves in the kitchen fixing breakfast for the household. It gave them a perfect opportunity to compare notes, Jean thought. The big blue guy had been holed up in his lab running test after test on various things. Her own efforts had been directed toward contacting the Professor and the other adults of the Institute and monitoring Pietro's health. The kid was just worn out.  
Jean really, really hoped Mr. McCoy was having more luck than she was.  
"All right," the Beast growled, flipping the pancakes. "Logan is on his way back, you said."  
"Yeah," she said as she rummaged for the syrup.  
"Ororo?"  
"Africa somewhere. I can't get a hold of her at all." Aha! There it was. Almost out, though. We need to go shopping soon.  
"Hmm. Scott's still in Hawaii?"  
Jean put the syrup on the table and started setting out plates. "Uh- huh. He can't get his tickets changed, either."  
Mr. McCoy sighed and put a platter of pancakes on the table. Wiping his big hands on a towel, he leaned on the back of a chair.  
"So it's pretty much up to the few of us and whatever help we can round up from in town," he said with a rumbling sigh.  
"I think so," she responded without much enthusiasm. "I'm going over to the Brotherhood house this afternoon and see if any of those guys are around. We might need their help."  
"Morning," Bobby yawned as he shuffled in.  
"Good morning, young Mr. Drake," Beast said, checking his bacon.  
"Hi, Bobby," Jean said. "Any luck on contacting Professor X?"  
The younger boy sighed. Jean didn't like the sound of that.  
"Tried everything. Communicators (both handheld and over the Blackbird's comlink), e-mail, instant messaging, cel phone," Bobby ticked off on his fingers, "land telephone, text messaging, and thinking really loud in his direction."  
Instant Messaging? She'd forgotten that Forge (who had taken to the Internet like a duck to water) had set up an account for the Professor. 'ChromeDome1963.'  
"Darn it," she muttered. Well, the Professor had been training them for years to tackle situations that came up in his absence. Even he couldn't be everywhere at once. Still, Scott had been groomed for the leadership role - not her. The thought of trying to handle this mystery wasn't a pleasant one.  
Bobby flopped into a seat and started filling his plate as Jean paced.  
"You can't just, you know," he waved a hand around in what she supposed was meant to be a telepathic gesture, "do your thing?"  
"It doesn't work like that, Bobby," she told him. "There's a limit to my range. HE might be able to talk to us over half a continent, but I'm just not that good yet."  
"Mm," the boy said around a mouthful of food. "What's he doing in Denver anyway?"  
"Keeping an eye on an anti-mutant rally," Mr. McCoy said, sitting at the head of the table. "And don't talk with your mouth full."  
A muffled, girlish shriek echoed through the walls into the kitchen, causing the three to stop and exchange a look.  
[Bamf!]  
Kurt appeared in one corner of the kitchen, clutching a towel around himself and dripping soap and bubbles all over the tiles. His body shampoo, Jean noticed, smelled like lavender.  
"Verlassen Sie hier![1]" the skinny blue devil shouted. He flicked a two-fingered hand across his eyes and blinked a couple times, apparently noticing where he'd teleported to for the first time. "Oh. Good morning," he said, looking down at his feet and turning noticably darker under his fur.  
"Problem, Kurt?" Mr. McCoy asked gently.  
Before he could answer, Kitty stalked into the room and marched over to Kurt.  
Poking him in the chest with a hairbrush she said in a flat voice, "You forgot this," and walked back out. Everyone stared at Kitty's retreating back. After a moment or two of bewildered silence, Jean cleared her throat.  
Kurt looked up from the hairbrush he was holding. "Ja?"  
"You're dripping all over the floor," she told him.  
"Ach, sorry."  
[Bamf!]  
Bobby snickered. "Going to fix the shower in the girl's bathroom anytime soon, Mr. McCoy?"  
"It's not high on my to-do list at the moment," came the reply. "But I think I might have to reevaluate that."  
The three of them ate quietly for a few minutes. Kurt and Kitty wandered in a half-hour later, apparently no longer talking to one another. Jean winced mentally. Great way to spend a vacation. Babysitting a pair of teenagers who wanted to feud. It didn't last long.  
"Pass the butter, bitte," Kurt said to Bobby. Kitty immediately took the container and moved it out of reach. This led to bickering. The bickering led to raised voices. Minutes later, Kurt and Kitty were shouting at each other across the table. Kitty's voice was reaching an octave that rivaled even the most vigorous soprano and Kurt was slinging German invective at machine-gun rapidity.  
Jean exchanged a look with Mr. McCoy, who rolled his eyes.  
"Damn, and I thought our house had issues."  
"...und nächstes Mal wenn Sie eine Dusche wünschen, können Sie wie jeder sonst warten, KÖNIGIN KATSCHEN![2]"  
Kurt waited for a response, then flicked his eyes toward the door, where Pietro was slumped against the frame. The white-haired teen was somewhat paler than usual, Jean saw, but at least he was awake and standing. Sort of, anyway.  
Pietro staggered slightly on his way to the table and threw himself into a chair.  
"Is that my t-shirt?" Kurt asked her. She nodded. Kurt was the closest in size to Pietro and so she'd grabbed a shirt at random out of his laundry basket. 'Just another fuzzy bum' with a crude drawing of a hobo under the text. Perhaps that particular one might have been a mistake. Why did the little German have to order his shirts from a specialty shop, anyway?  
"It fits me pretty well, furrball" Pietro said with a small smirk.  
"You're velcome."  
Mr. McCoy tapped a spoon on his glass of orange juice, getting their attention.  
  
"Now then," said Hank. "Since we're all here and more or less awake, I think you should know what I've found out in the way of testing."  
Everyone else nodded, interested. He smiled inwardly. This was just like teaching a real class, sometimes. Reaching under the table, he pulled out a plastic bag and tossed it onto the table where it landed with a juicy squelch.  
Bobby leaned in to get a better look at it. "What is that?"  
"That," Hank said as he arranged the bag so everyone could get a look, "is the shirt Pietro was wearing two nights ago. The, ah, blood is still a bit wet," he added.  
Kitty pushed her plate back, looking a bit green.  
"Now, as I suspected, you" he pointed at the speedster, who was nibbling on a biscuit, "were coated with far, far more blood than could have been expected, given the wound you sustained."  
Kitty spluttered, spraying droplets of orange juice all over herself.  
"I've done repeated testing and have come to the conclusion that at least two mutants - notice I didn't say just people, but mutants - bled on you at some point. My guess would have to be that you were fighting underground at the time, probably in a military installation located somewhere Rockies, during the night. One of the mutants was hurt fairly badly, possibly even killed. All three of you were drugged at the time, by something that either inhibits the X-gene or suppresses it to the point where it's too feeble to generate your unique powers." Hank paused, warming to his subject. Research was only his second love, but teaching like this was fun! "I'd have to guess an Air Force base or possibly a civilian airport, but in either case, the aircraft you were attempting to escape on exploded while you were still several hundred feet away from it."  
The silence was profound, Hank noted.  
"How...?" Kurt said in an awed voice. Hank waved him to silence.  
"Well?" the big blue man asked Pietro.  
The boy was visibly shaken. "Right in one. How could you figure all that out?"  
Ah. Hank decided he had to remember to explain things to these kids. They just didn't have the lab experience to follow his train of logic.  
"Well," he started, "first off, there are three different blood types on this thing." He gestured at the shirt. "Incidentally, were you aware you're anemic? Anyway, there's a fair amount of deep red clay ground into this - that's not usually found aboveground in most places. In fact, it's fairly common under the plains just east of the Rocky Mountains. There's a couple threads of olive green cotton stuck to it in a few places. Most military on the continent use that color uniform for some reason." Jean nodded, apparently starting to understand. The rest of them were still looking blank. "One of the blood types shows higher nitrogen content than the rest, which is indicative of heart blood. Heart wounds, of course, are usually fatal whatever the circumstances. All three blood types showed signs of Naproxin, a common sedative. I imagine you probably still feel a little 'drunk,' as it were. That particular medicine is fairly potent. It was also mixed with some sort of inhibitor that affects the X-gene. I haven't done much study with that, but it seems advanced." Bobby was nodding, along with Kurt. Kitty, he noticed, was still a little green around the edges. "The airport thing was actually fairly easy. I'm surprised I didn't catch it at first, but there's a fair amount of jet fuel droplets spread over the back of this. As well as a number of burns caused by the same fuel."  
Hank sat down, slipping the bag off the table with a squish.  
Pietro stood up and walked over to the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup of double French roast. Sitting back down, he took a sip. Then he nodded, a quick jerk of his head.  
"He's right. About all of it." And then he launched into his own narrative.  
  
Pietro drew a ragged breath. This wasn't going to be pleasant for any of them. Heck, he was drinking coffee in the headquarters of his archenemies...well, maybe not. Hell, he didn't know. Shaking off that momentary twinge of guilt over what he was about to do, he looked around the table. Oh well, maybe the X-Geeks would help him out. Who knows, perhaps he could just put all this crap behind him for once and everything would turn out all right.  
"About two weeks ago, Mystique came to the house with a message from my father. The old bastard wanted the Brotherhood to do a job on an airstrip outside Denver. It sounded simple, and all of us were itching to get out of the house for a while. Lance especially. Guess he felt some fresh mountain air might do him some good."  
He looked around the table, waving off the curious looks before they sidetracked his tale.  
"So the next morning a rental van is waiting for us in the drive. The five of us took off for the Wild West. Mystique had other business to attend to and said she would meet us there. Heh. Should have seen her for what she is...well, anyway, four days later, there we were in Denver. Cool place, but it really needs more air, you know? Too easy to get winded up there when you run. Mile-High City. Anyway, where was I?"  
"You got to Denver, and...?" Red prompted him. Oh, right. Denver.  
"Yeah, so we get to Denver and check into a freakin' hotel, like we're some sort of tourists. Nothing happens for almost three days. Longest three days of my life, I tell you. You try squeezing Fred into a double room. I had to share a bed with the other two, Wanda..." He choked involuntarily. Damn it, not now. "Wanda took the couch so she wouldn't have to sleep with the guys."  
Pietro took a sip of the coffee, gripping the hot mug with both hands to keep them from shaking.  
"So the third night, I mean like way after midnight, the window of this room opens on it's own and my father floats in and rouses us. Tells us his evil plot, or whatever you guys call it. It sounded simple, actually. All we had to do was go out and trash this airstrip so a speaker wouldn't make it to this 'Normals Against Mutant Aggression' meeting. Simple, like I said. So we all agreed we'd hit it on that Friday, 'cause the maintenance guys would be, you know, off for the weekend. This guy was supposed to be there the next day for the rally on Sunday."  
He paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out through his nose. As he took another sip, Nightcrawler leaned over to the big furry guy at the head of the table...Harry? Henry? Hank, that was it...and whispered, "Vhen vas the Professor supposed to land in Denver?"  
"Last Saturday."  
Pietro nodded.  
"I'm getting to that," he said, weakly raising a hand to interrupt them. "Apparently his Acolytes had other orders. If the speaker got there early, take him down. Permanently. Speaking of which, he's recruited a couple new people."  
"Oh?" said Red.  
"Yeah, some British chicks. I guess one of them isn't really a recruit, more like an ally. Calls herself the 'White Queen,' whatever that means. The other one's about your age" Pietro waved a hand at Jean "and has some really insane martial arts moves. Both of them are telepaths I guess. Didn't really have much to do with them."  
The guy calling himself Hank grunted. "You said the Acolytes had other orders?"  
"Oh? Oh, yeah, I did. If the speaker landed first, kill him."  
Red and Big Blue exchanged a look. Pietro sighed.  
"Look, Lance and the rest of us didn't agree with that at all. We got into place at the airstrip just minutes before the plane landed and rolled into an underground hanger. I guess we were really surprised when your Professor Xavier got off the jet with Rogue. I don't know what she was doing there," Pietro added with a puzzled frown.  
Jean nodded. "She was feeling cooped up over here and since she didn't have any family to go back to, she offered to go with Professor X as a sort of field trip." She shrugged. "Cabin-fever, I guess. Go on?"  
Pietro pushed aside his empty mug and sighed.  
"Well, anyway, to make a long story short," Pietro started. Kitty rolled her eyes at him. He shot her his best sneer. "As soon as the Professor got off the plane, the Acolytes attacked him and they didn't hold back. Once Lance saw what was going on, he didn't want a part of it and the rest of us agreed. So we waded into the fight, trying to get to the Professor's side." He shook his head at the memory. God, what a nasty ordeal. "We weren't the only ones, I guess. Pyro looked downright sick at the idea - and he's a nutball to begin with - and tried to help us out. That Gambit guy just plain bailed on the whole thing and disappeared even before we started to move in. It didn't help much. We managed to make it to within a hundred feet of your guys before we got swarmed."  
Pietro swallowed hard.  
"Lance started shaking things up around the new girls and I guess one of them started hitting him with her mind because the next thing I know, he's gushing blood from his nose and reeling on his feet. He collapsed against me. Todd took on that younger British chick. Bet you didn't know he studied Shotokan, did you? Fred had a better time against Collosus, I think, but then Fred's pretty hard to hurt in the first place. It started to go downhill after that." Pietro took a deep breath and folded his hands together, staring at the table to calm himself. "My fath-," he began, then caught himself and started again. "Magneto started flicking metal things at all of us and hit Fred with the sharp end of an I-beam. Whatever he did to the damn thing managed to take Fred in the chest and he stumbled back into me. I got out from behind him before he fell, but he was in a bad way. The Brit wiped the freakin' floor with Todd. He gave out pretty good, but she fought with some sort of glowing knives on her wrists and just slashed him until he fell. Wanda did ok against our, against Magneto, I think, but then Sabretooth was on me and I had to play keep away for a few minutes because Lance wasn't moving much. Professor Xavier took a hand at that point and managed to whack both Magneto's new girls in like a New York minute.  
"Damn, he's good," Pietro said in a shaky voice as he recalled the next bit.  
"Anyway," he said after a moment, " Rogue actually managed to get near enough to Colossus to absorb his power again, but he shook her off and the two of them went toe to toe. It's a bit of a blur, because I was moving around so much, but eventually me and Lance and Rogue and the Professor were backed up against the airplane. Wanda was fighting her way toward us, but Magneto was interfering big time. And then...well..." Pietro looked at Jean. "Is getting mental messages from him always so staggering?"  
The redhead thought about that for a moment. "It was probably the situation," she said. "He can be a little forceful at times. What did he say?"  
"Just told all of us to get on the plane, like, yesterday. Couple problems with that, though. We were still in a real bind, with our backs to the wall. Then Wanda went down under a pile of 55-gallon barrels and I kinda lost it. I dropped Lance and just went off like a rocket toward Magneto. Sabretooth got in my way and that's when Magneto hit us with those damn needles he had hidden somewhere. All of us fighting him just got stabbed and that's when I started to slow down-"  
"Wait, wait," Bobby exclaimed. "What about this Pyro guy? You said he didn't like Mags' idea either, right?"  
"Yeah, Pyro. I don't know what the hell he was thinking. He sees the rest of us starting to go down and just lit off a drum of jet-fuel. Then he goes and sends the fire in a big honkin' ball toward Magneto and Sabretooth - and me, I might add. It didn't work. Magneto hit him with another needle. And that's when the world exploded."  
There was a moment of shocked silence.  
"The what?" asked Jean, eyes wide.  
"So there we all are, lying at Magneto's feet, dazed and drugged, and he's floating over us...and over another stack of jet-fuel containers. It's really quiet in the hanger, and Magneto opens his mouth to say something, probably how he was going to wax all of us at his earliest leisure. And then this voice echoes throughout the hanger." Pietro cleared his throat and tried to affect a New Orleans accent. "'Ah don' lahk your attitude, mon ami. And what Ah don't lahk, Ah remove from th' game board.' Then there was this really creepy laughter and a little glowing playing card flipped end over end through the air. We all just watched it float lazily into the stack of barrels below Magneto. The king of hearts, I think." Pietro chuckled as a thought occurred to him, receiving several strange looks in the process. "The king of hearts - the suicide king," he explained. "When the card hit the barrel, well, that's when the world exploded."  
Pietro rubbed a hand across his eyes. God, this was tiring. How long had he been talking?  
"I must have been thrown clear of the explosion somehow, because when I woke up, I was lying outside the hanger entrance and Mystique was crouched over me with some blind woman standing behind her. I don't remember a word she said, but she brought me as far as New York before leaving me at Grand Central Station behind a row of lockers."  
"And you ran here?" asked Hank. "But with the drug in your body, you shouldn't have been able to use your power." Pietro cut him off with a wave of his hand.  
"I metabolize drugs like a two-year old. Something about a more efficient system; a normal dosage of aspirin could do me much more harm than good. A half-tablet has like the same effect as two would on you. Daddy Dearest probably misjudged the dosage by too little and so it wasn't enough to put me under."  
Pietro stood, weaving a little. Hank stood up too, but Pietro waved him down. "All this talk has exhausted me. I'm gonna go lie down." Thankfully, the big mutant nodded.  
The white-haired teen walked slowly out the door, trying to act as normal as possible. He made it as far as the upper hallway before he slumped against a wall and slid to the floor. Seconds later, the first tear slid down his cheek. Wrapping slender arms around knees, he curled up and sobbed quietly. No, this hadn't gone well at all.  
  
------  
  
Translations:  
  
[1]: "Get out of here!"  
  
[2]: "...and the next time you want a shower, you can wait like everyone else QUEEN KITTY!"  
  
Author's Note: Has the plot thickened enough yet? Should I stir in some more ingredients? Sorry for the sheer amount of dialogue in this one. I guess these guys like to hear themselves talk. Read, review, and endure the anguish of waiting for another update. ;) Cheers, folks. 


	4. The Longest Day Part One

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The entire table was quiet for several minutes after Pietro staggered out of the room as each of the five mutants tried to digest the information. They might have been sitting there until noon, lost in thought, if it weren't for the telephone.  
"Xavier Institute," Hank said, answering it on the fifth ring. "Oh! Hi, it's Hank. No, we're fine. Yes, a little empty but the students will be back over the next few weeks. What? I would, but he's not here. I know he was supposed to be back...listen, it's a little complicated at the moment. You are? Great! When will you be - he was?" He put a hand over the receiver and looked the table, where four pairs of eyes were watching him.  
"Jean, do you remember Dr. MacTaggart?"  
The redhead nodded. "Sure do. She was here last year when Rahne enrolled."  
"Good, good. Would you mind picking her up at JFK?"  
"No problem," Jean answered, standing up. "When does she get in?"  
"About twenty minutes ago. She's at the luggage claim for," the big blue mutant listened to the earpiece for a moment, "British Airways." Another pause. "Uh, take your SUV, Jean. She brought a couple people with her."  
"New students?" Bobby asked, but Hank had already turned back to the phone.  
"All right then, we'll see you in a couple hours. Looking forward to seeing you, Moira," he finished then hung up the receiver. Well, this was a welcome surprise. Moira MacTaggart and Charles went back a long way, from what Hank had picked up in conversation here and there. She'd had a hand in the foundation of the Institute and was now on her way back - already in New York! - to drop off her ward and look over the books. If nothing else, perhaps he could persuade her to keep an eye on things at the mansion while the rest of them put together and implemented a plan to stop Magneto and rescue their friends.  
What's more, she was bringing Rahne, her ward, along with her (Hank knew that Bobby was looking forward to seeing her again; guess the 'Iceman' wasn't as cold a fish as people thought) as well as another mutant.  
Great, Hank thought. Two more people. Would the seven of them be enough to handle Magneto and his Acolytes?  
"Mr. McCoy?"  
He turned around at Kitty's voice, but already his mind was formulating a plan.  
  
Kurt rubbed a hand across his eyes. He wasn't quite sure he believed Pietro's story. There were a couple holes in it, such as how the other teen glossed over his escape from Magneto's hands. He hadn't forgotten for a moment just how devoted the other boy was to his father. And his description of the battle in the hanger...  
Kurt folded his hands in his lap, bowing his head. 'Holy Father, if you're listening up there, we could really use some help right about now...'  
"Yes?" he heard Herr McCoy as though from a distance.  
"What are we going to do about the Professor?" Kitty asked.  
Kurt jerked his head up. Yes, just what were they going to do about Professor[1] Xavier?  
"What we're going to do is wait until Jean returns from the airport. Logan will arrive this afternoon. We're going to keep attempting to contact the other members of the team, though I doubt we'll get any better response today than yesterday. I'm going back to the lab to find an antidote. Doctor MacTaggart should make that go quicker, if she's not jet- lagged." Beast looked at each of them in turn. "We're going to get everyone back. The Professor and anyone else Magneto is holding hostage." The big blue man paused, the fierce expression on his face softening somewhat. "The X-Men don't leave any of their own behind."  
There were nods around the table at this; Kurt let out a breath he wasn't aware of holding. They'd be getting the Professor back. Good. Helping people in need. Also good. And spiking Magneto's wheel.  
Kurt grinned, flashing his fangs in a feral expression.  
Even better...wait, what was that?  
"Vas? Vaht did you say?" he asked suddenly.  
"Do you pay this little attention in school, Kurt?" Herr McCoy asked in return. Then he sighed. "I was saying that my analysis of the drug used on Pietro, though rudimentary, has indicated that it seems to have included some sort of toxin or venom which is having a detrimental effect on his X-gene."  
Kurt looked at him blankly. Some small corner of his mind cheered that Bobby appeared not to have understood, either.  
"Kurt's English is a little sketchy, Mr. McCoy," Kitty piped up.  
Sketchy? Drawn? Animated, sometimes, sure, but...  
"Sorry. He - and everyone else injected with this...this...X-Venom, we'll call it - has been poisoned."  
Kurt blinked. "Poisoned as in sick or poisoned as in...?"  
Herr McCoy ran a massive hand through his thick hair.  
"If he - they - keeps trying to use his power, yes. Poisoned as in dead."  
  
Kurt wandered around the huge mansion for much of the morning. After Herr McCoy's revelation, he had gone back to his room and tried to relax, but he just couldn't concentrate on anything. A summer squall had blown in off the lake around midmorning, so he wasn't able to go off into the thick woods that ringed the property. That certainly limited his choices for distraction. After fumbling around with the Xbox (he wondered if that had been purchased as a joke or because someone actually played the games) for an hour or so, he'd finally given up and started climbing the stairs toward the greenhouse on the roof of the west wing. Ororo had quite a collection of plants up there, and it was the closest thing he could find to being outdoors.  
He opened the door to the greenhouse, making sure to close it behind him. The woman would 'chew him a new one' if he left it open, thinking of one of the many colorful Americanisms he'd learned over the last year or two. He took a deep breath. The air in here was relaxing, he'd found, and since he was up here he might as well do something useful.  
Picking up a watering can, he started going from plant to plant. He'd made one complete circuit of the outer ring and was about to start on the inner ring when his ears twitched. Someone was in here with him!  
Kurt set the can down and looked around the room. Nothing...but the plants were too high to see the entire room at once. He squatted down, peering underneath the tables.  
Ah, there. Kurt crouched down and scuttled under several of the heavy wooden tables toward the central circle Ororo used for meditation. The nice thing about being furry, he thought with a smile, was that the soft hair tended to make him silent while moving. He crawled under the last table and stopped.  
Pietro was sitting in the center of the meditation area, directly under the middle of the glass dome that protected the plants from the light storm outside. It was one of those strange 'sun storms,' Kurt saw, and the other boy was bathed in a beam of sunlight; head bowed, apparently ignorant of Kurt's presence. The slender blue mutant sidled around until he could see Pietro a little better.  
The speedster was sitting with his head resting on his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. Bony arms were wrapped tightly around his legs and Pietro was rocking slightly back and forth. Kurt's ears picked up a muffled keening sound coming from the middle of the huddled form. What the hell was going on here? This didn't look or sound like the Pietro who taunted them at school, who flaunted his mutation. The self-assured, brazen, arrogant, rude...Kurt shook his head. This was a bad dream, that was it. Just a dream.  
Without realizing it he'd settled down on his haunches underneath the table. When he straightened his neck, a sharp [crack!] rang through the room as his head met the oak table rocking a pot over the edge.  
Pietro's head snapped up. Were those tears - Kurt didn't have time to finish that thought as the white-haired teen's left arm shot out faster than he could see and caught the pot. Kurt reached out slowly and took the flower pot - lamb's ear, it turned out - and set it on the floor next to him. He edged out from under the table, rubbing his head.  
"Are you all right?" he asked.  
"Of-course-I-am. Why-wouldn't-I-be-all-right?" Pietro sneered back at him.  
Pietro's left hand went into spasms at that point. Both boys stared as it convulsed several times before settling into a series of erratic twitching.  
"Vell, dat to begin vith."  
  
"Thank ye for comin' out t' pick us up," Dr. MacTaggart told Jean as the four of them walked out of the terminal. "'M a li'l surprised that Charles wasn't here, tho'."  
"Aye, tha's no' like th' man," added Mr. Cassidy in his lilting voice.  
Jean had been hoping that Dr. MacTaggart had found and brought another student for the Institute and was a little disappointed to find this tall stranger instead. It wasn't hard to see that he and the Scotswoman were obviously a couple. Still, he seemed nice enough.  
"There was a problem in Denver last weekend," she said to them, glancing around. The airport lot was crowded enough that she didn't want to go into details. 'He's been captured by Magneto,' she thought at the other three mutants. She continued for another moment, sending them what information they had on the whole fiasco.  
Rahne audibly gasped as Jean described the battle in the hangar. Dr. MacTaggart and Mr. Cassidy shared a look.  
"A'right, then," the older woman said in a crisp voice. She set her luggage down by the back of Jean's Explorer. "What're we goin' t' do 'bout this?" Dr. MacTaggart asked in a practical voice.  
"I," Jean started, then stopped and frowned. She wasn't sure. They still couldn't reach Ororo or any of the older students. She had no idea what, if anything, Mr. Cassidy could do. That left Hank and Logan as the only experienced X-Men. "I don't know."  
  
The mansion was quiet.  
Too quiet.  
Logan shook his head, dismissing that thought. Film noir had always been a love of his, but he had to admit that sometimes it was a little depressing. He pulled up in front of the steps and cut the engine on his shiny new Harley-Davidson V-Rod VRSCB. The insurance company had grudgingly paid him for the loss of his last bike - his lip curled as he remembered that particular fight with Sabretooth - and he'd decided to buy something sportier.  
Well, mostly sporty. The sidecar currently attached to it was necessary at the moment, but was coming off at the first opportunity. Ruined the lines of his bike, Logan thought. He removed his helmet and dismounted. Cradling the helm under one arm, he removed his gloves and tipped his head back, sniffing the damp air.  
Bobby and Kitty were on the back veranda. There was a faint trace of car exhaust in the air - Jean must have gone out. Hank was unlikely to go out for any reason and Kurt knew that if he got caught driving without a license, Logan would have him for breakfast.  
After all, he'd told the little guy just that not a week ago.  
The two furrballs must be inside, he thought as he walked up the stairs. As he opened the door, he looked back down at his bike. The sidecar was there for a reason, but his passenger hadn't moved a muscle since they'd hit Long Island.  
"Hey, kid. You comin' in or are you sitting out here until it rains again?"  
The smaller figure climbed out of the sidecar and picked up the duffle bag he'd been clutching since Chicago. Wrapping both arms around the large bag, the kid staggered up the steps. Logan waited until the boy got to the top and then pulled off the helmet.  
Wide blue eyes stared back at him as he expertly flipped the extra helm back into the sidecar.  
"What?"  
"Where," said the teenager. Then he swallowed with an audible gulp. "Where did you learn to drive one of those things?"  
Chuckling, Logan led the way into the building.  
"Long story, bub. Welcome to your new home."  
  
On a hilltop thirty miles east of Denver, a lone figure crouched in the dust of the Rocky Mountain foothills. Shifting slightly, the man settled into a more comfortable position and continued his watch. Nothing had come out of the rubble of the airstrip in the last week, but he wouldn't put anything past that monster in the red cape or any of the others that were inside when the ground collapsed over the underground hangar.  
Reaching a hand up to his hear, he muttered in a low voice that all was quiet. The headpiece crackled in reply almost immediately.  
"Continue surveillance."  
Without so much as changing expression, the stranger drew a deck of cards from somewhere on his person and started shuffling them one-handed.  
  
Logan looked around Charles' office with an irritated expression on his face. He didn't like just sitting here while the man needed his help. Xavier had helped him through a rough time - well, several - in his past and Logan wasn't sure there was enough time in the world to repay that debt. He slipped a flask from the inside of his leather jacket and took a swig, wondering why Hank asked him to wait in here. He could have been in Pennsylvania by now, if he'd left the moment he got back.  
Damn you, Magneto. What did you have to gain by killing Xavier?  
Voices in the hallway brought him out of his sullen reverie and he stopped his pacing. The big double-doors opened, admitting the Beast and...  
"...Moira?" he said under his breath. Who was the other guy?  
"Hello, Logan," said the woman as Hank closed and locked the office door. "I don' believe ye've met Sean, have ye now?"  
Logan looked long and hard at the man, noting that he and Moira were holding hands. So she'd finally gotten over Charles. He wondered how Xavier would react to having a rival for Moira's hand in his house, let alone his own office.  
"Howdy. Logan," he said, clasping hands with the guy. Firm grip, anyway.  
"Sean Cassidy," the man said in a very Irish accent. From West Meath, if he wasn't mistaken. Oh well, might as well get this out of the way.  
"You a mutant too?"  
The man laughed, a clear, rich tone. "Aye, lad, tho' my power is no' one fer use indoors." Lad? Logan bristled. He had decades on this upstart. He bared his teeth in what he imagined was a smile and stalked over to a chair.  
When everyone was seated, Hank crouched on Charles' desk.  
"All right, then." He passed on the events of the last three days to the other three, stressing that Pietro did not seem to be a threat. Logan wasn't comfortable just the same. There was something about that arrogant little brat that made his teeth hurt. He listened to the entire story, nodding and asking questions at the appropriate places. Moira and Cassidy were doing the same.  
It boiled down to a simple rescue mission in Logan's mind. He was sure that Moira and Beast could figure out an antidote for whatever it was Magneto had used on his prisoners. He wouldn't be any use in a lab.  
"When do I leave?" Logan asked, cutting into the conversation.  
The other three looked at him.  
"When. Do. I. Leave," he repeated in a tone that usually made the students cringe.  
"As soon as possible," Hank told him. "You're the best of us at recon. Just go out to Denver and scout the airstrip. Sean and the students will follow in a day or two once we understand the situation out there."  
Logan nodded. No point wasting any more time.  
"And Logan," Moira said as he stood up. He stopped at the door. "Be careful. No heroics!"  
Logan smirked at her.  
"I'm always careful, sweetheart."  
  
'Kurt! Kitty! Bobby! Please come to the second floor rec room,' Jean sent her thought out. The new kid, Doug, was fiddling with a handheld computer over in the sitting area. She'd shown him the grounds, introduced him to the adults, and gotten him stowed away in his room. All that was left was meeting some of his fellow students. She had to wonder how the younger boy could sit after so many hours cramped into a sidecar, though. Probably enjoying the relative quiet. Logan's driving frightened Jean; she imagined that it probably terrified the other kids around here.  
Bobby and Kitty arrived within a couple minutes. Both the kids were in swimsuits and bickering. Again. Jean still hadn't figured out how everyone managed to get along during the school year, when the building was packed with four times as many teenagers. She had a pretty good idea what this was about, though. Kitty, dressed in a bright orange one-piece suit, was shivering despite the summer warmth.  
Bobby, for his part, was grinning widely.  
"Don't tell me," she said to him. "There's another iceberg in the pool, isn't there?"  
The grin widened. Kitty smacked him in the back of the head.  
"Ow!" Bobby yelped.  
"Oh, shut up! You weren't the one swimming in that ice-water lagoon, you twit!"  
"Enough, both of you!" Jean mentally rolled her eyes. Why couldn't some of the less...active...kids have stayed here over the summer instead? She waved a hand toward the couches. "Have a seat. Say hello to the new kid. Be nice to him, Bobby," she added.  
Doug looked up as the two walked over to him and shut off his little computer.  
"Hi. Doug Ramsey," he said, offering a hand.  
"Bobby Drake."  
"Kitty Pryde."  
Jean glanced at her watch. Where was Kurt?  
[Bamf!]  
"Sorry, Jean," Kurt said behind her. She turned around to find Kurt and Pietro standing there. "Ve vere in the little greenhouse on the roof."  
"It's a conservatory," she corrected him. Pietro was standing next to the blue guy, absently rubbing his left arm. "Something wrong, Pietro?"  
The white-haired teen looked up, startled, and then glanced down at his arm. With a visible effort, he stopped fidgeting and shoved his hands into his pockets.  
"No," he muttered, looking away.  
Hm. Have to worry about that later, Jean decided.  
"Kurt, meet Doug Ramsey," she said instead, gesturing toward the couches. Kurt blinked in surprise and whipped his head around. Belatedly, Jean remembered that the little blue guy didn't like being seen in his true form. By then, however, it was too late.  
[Bamf!]  
Jean and Pietro exchanged a look. The other three kids looked just as confused, though Kitty stood immediately and went out the door.  
"Well, that's Kurt's power. Here's mine," Bobby said, as though that sort of thing happened on a regular basis. Cupping his hands together, he concentrated for a moment. The air, Jean noticed, turned noticeably cooler.  
Bobby opened his hands to reveal a little model of a sports car.  
"Hey, that's pretty neat," Doug said with a note of surprise. At Bobby's nod, he picked up the little Porsche and examined it closer. "Detailed, too. So you can create ice?"  
Bobby smiled. "That's me, the Iceman."  
Doug's jaw dropped when the ice model rose up from his hand and started racing along the back of the couch. Bobby laughed in delight, joined quickly by Doug. Good, Jean thought as she made the car do a lap around the library table. Looks like he'll fit right in. She stole a glance at Pietro, who had a very faint smile on his face.  
"Are you doing that?" Doug asked Bobby.  
'No,' Jean told him mentally, 'that's one of my powers. This is the other one.'  
Jean heard Pietro snicker as Doug's eyes widened in surprise. Everyone in the room was laughing, which was a good sign. Sending the car back to Bobby, she took a seat.  
"Can everyone here do things like that?"  
"Almost, Doug. Kitty can phase through solid objects. Logan has a very rapid healing ability, as well as adamantium claws. Everyone has a unique power."  
"Like that blue guy who popped in and out of here?"  
Jean sent a tendril of thought toward Kurt and found him coming down the hallway with Kitty. Perhaps there was hope he'd get over his fear of rejection after all.  
"Exactly. Pietro," she looked around and found the speedster leaning against the far wall, "well, he's not very sociable, but he has advanced reflexes and speed."  
"Hey! I-heard-that-Red!" Pietro snapped.  
'I'll explain later,' she thought at Doug, who caught her eye and nodded.  
Kurt and Kitty returned before Jean could say anything else. Jean sighed inwardly. Kurt didn't look terribly happy and he was wearing an image inducer again. She heard Pietro snicker behind her and shot him a dirty look; the white-haired boy didn't stop, but she felt better.  
"Kurt Wagner, meet Doug Ramsey," Kitty was saying.  
"Guten Tag," Kurt mumbled, still looking uncomfortable.  
"Hello. So what do you do?"  
"Vas?"  
"What's your power?" Doug asked Kurt.  
"..."  
Kitty threw up her hands. "Oh, that is IT! Kurt, get over yourself!" Kurt looked at her in shock as she grabbed his wrist...and phased through the inducer. With a faint crackling and a delicate tendril of smoke, the hologram machine shorted out, leaving a very angry blue mutant standing in the middle of the group.  
"Honestly," Kitty grumped at Jean. "How many times have we all told him that none of us care about what he looks like while he's in the mansion? Besides, it's not like he doesn't know your name. Jean tried to, like, introduce you just a couple minutes ago!" Jean had to admit that the younger girl was right, though her method needed a bit of work. If looks could kill...  
Jean giggled involuntarily. After all, Kitty did have a point. Kurt went beyond anal-retentive into the realm of downright neurotic about how he looked sometimes, especially when interacting with people outside the Institute.  
She looked over Kurt's bowed head at Doug, who looked more intrigued than disgusted. As she watched, he reached out a tentative hand and twirled some of Kurt's fur between his fingers.  
"That is really cool, man," he said in a quiet voice. Then he yelped and jerked back as Kurt's tail slapped his hand away. The little blue guy always called himself a demon, but Jean was always thought he looked like a stuffed animal she'd had when she was growing up. Sort of like Grover with a tail, actually. Jean laughed out loud without thinking.  
Kurt rounded on her, and the look on his face was priceless. Jean covered her mouth, trying to stifle the laughter but it just wasn't working. She could feel Kitty beside her, shaking with silent laughter.  
"Jean! Kitty! Ich dachte, daß Sie auf meiner Seite waren! Bitte lachen Sie nicht an mir![2]" Oh, no.  
Jean tried, really she did, but the look was just too much to handle. He'd lapsed into German again and he just sounded and looked so ridiculous at the moment. 'I mean, really, couldn't he have chosen a better t-shirt this morning?' Jean thought to herself. 'He has so many to choose from - why wear the one that says 'It's Big, It's Blue, and You're Gonna Love it!' today of all days?' Bobby had joined in the laughter, too, and Pietro sounded like he was going to choke on his own behind her. She couldn't get her breath and stood there in front of a very irate ball of fur gasping for air.  
"Wartezeit! Kurt, stoppen bitte. Ich entschuldige mich. Ich bedeutete nicht, Sie zu beleidigen.[3]" Doug had edged between Kurt and herself an apologetic look at the other boy, but Kurt bared his fangs at him.  
"You speak German?" Bobby grinned at Doug, who returned the look with a slight frown. "That's so cool! Now we can ask you what he really means when he mutters under his breath at us."  
"Betrachten Sie mich nicht wie das! Ich bin nicht ein Dämon![4]" Kurt interrupted, fairly spitting the words at the new boy.  
"Ich bedeutete es nicht so. [5]"  
[Bamf!]  
Jean sighed. Kurt could be so prickly about his looks some days.  
"So, um, what's your power?" Kitty said in the silence.  
"Would you believe language?"  
  
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Wow, holy broken-action sequences, Batman! This was more or less a filler chapter, as a way of introducing Moira, Banshee and Cypher into the fic. Beginning next chapter, I'm probably going to start posting chapters with a single scene from the viewpoint of each of our main characters (Jean, Kurt, and Hank) with little cutscenes from Logan's point of view. I have to use him.he's been around the block more times than a Cleveland hooker. Lord knows, if this bunch has any chance at success they'll need someone with experience on their side.  
  
Read and review, folks. I'm going to try and get the next one out quickly. After another chapter or two of everyone trying to figure out how they all fit together, the action will begin in earnest.  
  
Jack  
  
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Translations: (Apologies for any miscues in this chapter. My walking dictionary is out of town for the weekend and my own German is not only rusty, but leans toward the obscene as well.)  
  
[1] Incidentally, the English and German words for 'Professor' (as a title) are precisely the same.  
  
[2] "Jean! Kitty! I thought you were on my side! Please stop laughing at me!"  
  
[3] "Wait! Kurt, please stop! I apologize. I didn't mean to insult you."  
  
[4] "Don't look at me like that! I'm not some sort of demon!"  
  
[5] "I didn't mean it like that." 


	5. Interlude: Being Doug Ramsey

------  
For the second time in a week, Jean found herself unable to focus on her book. It was her turn to monitor the communications network. She was sitting at the main computer terminal, feet propped up on a server. In the seat next to her Doug was fiddling with a keyboard, eyes locked on the screen in front of him. She glanced at it for a moment and couldn't make head or tail of it.  
"What are you doing, Doug?" The Professor would have a fit if something went wrong with the computer system. The mainframe in this room controlled not only the Institute's automatic defense system, but also handled most of the processing for the danger room and, most importantly, Cerebro. "Doug?"  
The other boy turned to her, eyes slightly out of focus. "String ConStr = "User=Microsoft.Jet.OleDB.4.0; Data Source = x:\\mcs\\ComSatControl\\NASA.mdb?"  
Jean's jaw dropped. What the heck? Doug was still looking intently at her with those strangely unfocused eyes.  
"W-what?" she stammered. "Are you all right? Doug? Can you hear me?"  
"DataRow AddNewRow1 = dDataSet.Tables["Institute"].Rows.Add..." Doug trailed off and shook his head. When he looked back at Jean, she saw he was actually focused on her face and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"  
Jean slipped a bookmark into 'Wuthering Heights' and set it aside. She sat back in her chair.  
"What was all that about?" she asked him.  
He shrugged. "Sorry. I guess I got a little caught up in what I was doing." Yeah. And elephants are kinda large. Nice understatement. "That happens occasionally. Drawback of my mutation, I guess. It's hard to explain," he said with a slight frown.  
Jean raised her hands. "May I?"  
The boy hesitated then shrugged. Jean took that as assent and cupped her hands around his head, closing her eyes. She reached out with her mind and...  
...found herself floating in one of the most orderly minds she'd ever encountered. This was almost on a par with the Professor, she thought as she looked around. She turned around the image of his mind, marveling at the structure she found. Everywhere she looked she could see 'Doug' tapping something into a computer or writing on a chalkboard or in a notebook, or arguing with another simulacrum. There were shelves of books reaching high into the air all around her with more 'Dougs' consulting various references. A flicker caught her eye and she looked up.  
Ah, she thought, I must be in his subconscious. Willing her projection to rise, she floated impossibly high through a glass ceiling - or floor, she corrected herself. The new scape was somewhat less structured and neat. In fact, it pretty much resembled the bedroom of any adolescent boy. Clothing was strewn about the room. Books were stacked precariously on the desk and floor, large stacks threatening to topple at the slightest breeze. There was only one 'Doug' here, and she knew instinctively that this was the Ego, or the Self. In other words, the real Doug.  
'Hi,' the Ego-Doug said to her, setting aside a copy of 'Games' magazine. 'Get lost on your way in?'  
'Sort of,' she admitted. Usually she found herself in a subject's conscious mind, not his subconscious. 'It's all subliminal, isn't it? Your power, that is.'  
'Pretty much. I don't think about translating, I just do it. When I'm worked up, or really focused on something, I lose myself sometimes.' The Ego-Doug pointed at the floor. Jean looked down, seeing a wooden trapdoor set with a thick iron ring. 'When Kurt started bitching at me in German, that thing opened and I got swarmed.'  
'I don't understand.'  
'You kinda had to be there.'  
Jean thought about that for a moment.  
'You up for an experiment?' she asked the simulacrum. His response was a shrug.  
She sent her thought out. 'Kurt! Come here!'  
[...bamf...]  
How odd that the sound is muted when I'm inside another mind, Jean thought. You'd think I'd hear it as loud as it usually is through Doug's ears. She opened her eyes - her real eyes - and looked around. Kurt was crouching on the back of her chair, blinking at her from above.  
"You...rang?" he rumbled in as deep a voice as he could. Jean snickered. He was trying to sound like Lurch from the Addams Family, but came across more like Squiggy from Laverne and Shirley - with a heavy Teutonic accent, that is.  
"It's dull around here and I thought I'd try to learn more about Doug's power. Mind helping us?"  
Kurt nodded, flopping onto the other chair in the room. He took a moment to make himself comfortable, finally giving up and just curling up in it with his tail wrapped over one arm.  
"Vhat you vant me to do?" he asked her.  
"Just start talking in German. Anything. I want to see precisely how Doug's mind processes it." The little blue mutant shrugged and crossed himself. Catching her raised eyebrow, Kurt spread his hands.  
"Vhat?"  
"Sorry, go on." Jean closed her eyes and slipped back into Doug's mind. The Ego-Doug pulled of a pair of earphones and reached over to shut off a stereo system. She caught the faintest sound of 'Erasure' before he stopped the CD.  
'Thought you'd never be back,' he said. She waved the simulacrum to silence.  
'Shh,' she whispered. 'Listen.'  
"...im Himmel, Geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein...[1]" she heard Kurt's voice as though through a thick wall. A grating sound distracted her and she looked down, jumping back just in time to avoid the trapdoor swinging up. Another Doug climbed up through the door, dropping it shut behind him.  
Jean took a long look at this new mind-Doug. He was wearing, of all things, a white cassock and had a purple stole around his neck. A richly- encrusted cross hung from a golden chain on his neck, echoing the jeweled skullcap perched on his blond head. Tucked under his left arm was a leather-bound Bible. Without missing a beat, the new Doug flipped open the book and started reading.  
'...Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven...'  
Jean blinked and looked at the Ego-Doug with wide eyes. The original Doug scratched his nose and shrugged helplessly at her.  
'It just happens, I swear. If it isn't German, another of these guys comes up and starts translating for me,' Ego-Doug told her.  
'Excuse me,' the other mind-Doug snapped testily. 'I'm trying to translate here.' Jean raised her eyebrows, but quieted anyway. The priest- Doug continued, shooting a nasty glare at her for her apparent interruption. 'Give us this day, our daily bread...'  
'What's with the vestments?' she whispered to Ego-Doug.  
'I'm not sure,' he replied, earning another glare from the priest- Doug.  
"...und die Herrlichkeit in Ewigkeit.[2] Amen," Kurt finished. "Vant me to continue?"  
'...glory for all eternity, amen,' the priest-Doug echoed. Snapping the book shut, it wrenched open the trapdoor and disappeared through it. The trapdoor shut with a slam, leaving Jean alone with Ego-Doug. They exchanged another look.  
'You think that one's bad, you should have seen what came up yesterday afternoon in the rec room,' Ego-Doug said, shivering at the memory. He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. 'Fourteen - I counted them - Viking berserkers marched through that thing,' he gestured at the trapdoor, 'and started shouting in heavily-accented English. They all looked just like me!'  
'Have you ever been down there?' she asked. 'Into your subconscious, I mean?'  
Ego-Doug shook his head quickly. 'Are you kidding? You wouldn't believe some of the...the...well, some of the Dougs that have come out of there.'  
'I can imagine,' Jean said. 'I'm going to ask Kurt to say something else in German, but I'm going back into your subconscious, first. Do you want to come along? I promise nothing is going to hurt you.'  
"Jean?" Kurt asked her.  
"One sec," she said aloud.  
'I know I can't get hurt down there,' Ego-Doug told her. 'It's just weird seeing ME all over the place.' He sighed, and bent to open the door. 'Oh, well. At least I'll have company this time.'  
Ego-Doug climbed down a ladder which appeared just below the door. Jean willed her projection through the floor, following the simulacrum to his well-ordered subconscious mind. The other Dougs paid them no mind as they entered, instead going about their own duties.  
'Now what?' Ego-Doug asked, edging slightly closer to her.  
"Say something else, Kurt, and make it something long," Jean said to Kurt. She must have overcompensated for the sound-dampening properties of mental contact, because the little blue guy jumped at her voice.  
"Sheesh! You are talking to me or the whole mansion?"  
"Sorry."  
'Well?'  
'Hang on, Kurt's trying to think of something he can recite at you. Us. Whatever,' she said. Almost immediately, the lights went out, only to be replaced by a red glow. Jean was uncomfortably reminded of the emergency lights in a movie theatre. All over the vast room, lights were snapping on at various desks and each and every Doug was carrying a penlight.  
"Du bist wie eine Blume, So hold und schön und rein...[3]" Kurt started.  
Jean and Ego-Doug looked around, fully expecting another simulacrum to join them. Instead, the other Dougs were all quickly looking through various books or looking things up on...  
...oh, come on. There's no Internet in the mind. How on Earth was THAT one accessing an online dictionary?  
A sharp white light flicked on high above them and Jean instinctively looked toward the light. There was a Doug on top of the ladder, looking bewildered. Jean wondered how he managed to wear lederhosen without blushing. Doug, the real Doug, looked like a blond-haired, blue-eyed young man from any northern European country. In that particular outfit, though, the mind-Doug looked like an extra from 'The Sound of Music.'  
Jean had to bite back the question of whether or not all that leather was chafing his thighs.  
'Hey! We got a problem, guys. The boss isn't up here,' the lederhosen-clad-Doug shouted down. 'I think. Man, what a freakin' pigsty. How can we live up here?'  
'Give us a little credit,' another mind-Doug yelled back. 'We'll grow out of it. Eventually, anyway,' he added.  
'Hold on, I found us,' another one called from behind them. Jean and Ego-Doug turned around to find another of the simulacrums. This one opened a book and thumbed to a page near the end. 'Sorry about the delay, boss,' he started. Then the mind-Doug saw Jean.  
"...betend, daß Gott dich erhalte...[4]"  
'Well, hello cutie,' the mind-Doug said. 'Don't mind me.' Then he started translating.  
Jean looked around. Most of the other Dougs were not paying them any mind. Once in a while, another would run up to the one translating for them and pass along a note. The translator would correct himself and continue reading without stopping for breath. How interesting, Jean thought. Doug doesn't even have to concentrate. His mind just continually processes the information for him and passes it along.  
They walked around the floor of the subconscious for a while, trailed by the ever-present translator. This one didn't seem to mind her presence nearly as much as the priest-Doug and so she and Ego-Doug were able to carry on a conversation.  
'What's behind this door?' she asked as they neared a wall. A steel door was set into it, and a low hum emanated from behind the sealed entryway.  
'Probably the computer language translators. It's a little freaky when one of those comes upstairs,' Ego-Doug replied. 'It still looks like me, but it's sort of black with gold circuitry covering it.'  
Ah. How odd. They walked along in silence. The translator-Doug still followed along, cheerfully going on about a beautiful woman on a cliff somewhere.  
"Und das hat mit ihrem Singen, Die Loreley getan.[5] Ok, Jean. How vas that?"  
Jean patted Ego-Doug on the shoulder. 'I think I have an idea of how this works now,' she said, smiling at him.  
'Good,' he said, blushing slightly. 'Maybe you can help me learn to keep it under control, then." She ruffled his hair in reply, then went back into her own mind.  
Opening her eyes, she dropped her hands from Doug's temples and sat back.  
"That was great, Kurt. Thank you," she told the little German.  
"Bitte schoën," he said.  
"By the way, what was that second bit?" Doug asked. "The first one was the Lord's Prayer, but I didn't recognize the other."  
Jean swore Kurt was blushing under his fur. It was so hard to tell sometimes.  
In response, Kurt hummed a couple bars of a tune. At their blank look, he shook his head. "It is from a song, Die Lorelei. Traditional love song back home."  
A love song?  
"And what made you think of that, Kurt?" Jean asked him in a teasing voice.  
[Bamf!]  
Hmph. Well, if that wasn't rude...  
Doug snickered beside her and turned back toward the computer terminal. With a glance at the ceiling, Jean sent a questing thought toward Kurt's room and found him perched on the balcony railing, watching something in the back yard. Shaking her head in amusement, she picked up her book and flipped open to her marked page.  
  
------  
  
This scene started off a lot smaller, but I had a sudden inspiration from my 'Muse of Whimsicality' and just couldn't resist.  
  
Translations:  
  
[1]: ".in Heaven, hallowed by Thy name." (Not exactly, but it's the tail- end of the first line of the Lord's Prayer. You get the picture.  
  
[2]: This is the last bit of the final line of the Lord's Prayer, which in English is usually spoken as 'For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, now and forever. Amen.'  
  
[3], [4], [5]: These don't really translate very well since they are snippets of a poem. All three lines are from 'Die Lorelei,' the first stanza of which is reproduced below.  
  
Auf Deutsch: Ich weiß nicht, was soll es bedeuten, Daß ich so traurig bin, Ein Märchen aus uralten Zeiten, Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn. Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt, Und ruhig fließt der Rhein; Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt, Im Abendsonnenschein.  
  
Or, in English: I don't know, whatever hath befallen me, That I so pensive should be. From out of the past, an old legend Keeps haunting my memory: The air is cool, and the darkness Descends, in the vale of the Rhine; The tops of the hills are still glowing, Reflecting the evening sun's shine. - Heinrich Heine, 1823.  
  
It's actually a little haunting in places, the melody that is. Still, it's quite beautiful and really is a traditional love song in German. For more information about this, run a Google on 'Die Lorelei' and have a blast. If you can find a downloadable copy of it, listen to it - you won't be disappointed.  
  
Cheers, folks. Remember to leave a review. 


	6. The Longest Day Part Two

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Oog. Is it halfway through September already? My heavens, where DID the time go? Sorry 'bout that, folks. Read, enjoy, review, and please don't hurt me for being late...  
  
------  
  
Kurt crouched on his balcony railing, a light breeze ruffling his fur. In consideration of his unique appearance, he'd asked for a room that faced the rear of the house. Xavier had readily agreed, though Kurt was certain that the man didn't entirely approve. The Professor wanted him to get used to being seen in his true guise. Kurt wasn't ready for that, but he still felt a twinge of guilt every time the subject came up.  
Over the last year or so, Kurt had grown quite fond of his room. The view, for one, was immaculate. On a clear day, he could see clear across Long Island Sound all the way to Connecticut. The ocean was beautiful this time of year. Clear blue water as far as the eye could see.  
There were other perks, of course. His room also overlooked the wide expanse of the back patio, affording him an unobstructed view of the swimming pool. He'd used that to good advantage in the past. Most memorably on those warm summer nights after the girls had gotten back from a full day of mall walking.  
Swimsuits, he decided, were one of God's better creations.  
The pool itself was empty at the moment. Everyone else was otherwise occupied, meaning he could go down and bask in the cool water at his leisure if he so wished. It was a tempting thought. Might as well pack in as much relaxation as possible into the next day or so. He'd need all he could get if Pietro had been telling the truth. They all would.  
Kurt shivered, despite the heat.  
Hopping back to the balcony, he leaned against the railing and studied the distant ocean, deciding to distract himself instead of dwelling on the odious task ahead. Let's see, he thought as he ticked the options off on his fingers. Jean and, wie war sein Name?, Doug were on communications duty. Sounded dull, he thought, and they seemed wrapped up in something down there anyway. Probably wouldn't welcome the company. Neither would Herr McCoy and Doktor MacTaggart - a name he tripped over every time he tried to say it out loud - since they were hip-deep in an attempt to find an anti-toxin for whatever Magneto used. Hmm. Doktor MacTaggart's, uh, friend was setting up a danger room session for Kitty and Bobby.  
Kurt considered that. A good workout would take his mind off things and Herr 'Call me Sean, boyo!' Cassidy seemed to know his way around the danger room controls. What had he said last night after dinner? Something about being one of Professor Xavier's other students? Oh, that was it. He'd been at the school at the same time Ororo had been trained. So that could be interesting. He was dying to figure out what the guy's power was. Every time someone asked, the guy would slyly wink and lay a finger alongside his nose. Then he'd answer with some form of 'Wait 'n see, laddie,' or 'No' inside! No' inside! Ask me later, lass!'  
Downright infuriating. On the other hand, maybe the guy would slip and use his power in the danger room? Hmm. That might make the subsequent beating by the training sequence worthwhile.  
What else, what else...? Rahne had walked over to the mall, muttering something about the narrow selection at the stores in Edinburgh. Kurt had learned a quick and biting lesson in Scottish-English relations when he'd asked her why she didn't just take a train to London to go shopping. Her accent had been quite thick at that point; he still wasn't sure what most of those words meant. His own limited English was limited mostly to the American variety. So, hanging out at the mall with her was out of the question. Looks like that training session was his best bet.  
Kurt turned to go back into his room and change when a movement in the backyard caught his eye. In addition to the swimming pool, his balcony also overlooked the basketball and tennis courts. He crouched down behind the railing and watched Pietro come around the end of the house with a ball tucked under his arm. Sometime earlier that day, the Brotherhood boy had fetched clothing from the boarding house. Kurt was secretly relieved. He didn't like sharing his clothes with anyone, least of all that white-haired Wichser.[1]  
Pietro started shooting baskets, jogging at an easy pace around the asphalt. Kurt thought of what he'd seen in the greenhouse - sorry Jean, conservatory - and wondered if the other boy was deliberately holding back. He wouldn't have been surprised. Simply moving his arm at hyper-speed had caused Pietro's muscles to twitch for over an hour. Kurt grimaced, suddenly thinking of what the speedster had looked like the night they'd found him.  
Shifting around, Kurt settled into a comfortable position and just watched Pietro play basketball for a while. It didn't even occur to him to go down to the danger room.  
  
Logan leaned forward, goosing the engine on his Harley. The miles flew by so much quicker at night, he'd found out years ago, but he wasn't stopping for anything until he got to Chuck. So here he was in the middle of the afternoon on a lonely highway in the middle of Nowheresville, America.  
A sign flashed past him. "Bennett, CO - 4 Miles." Good. He was almost to the turnoff. Flipping a switch on his helmet, he cleared his throat. A voice responded almost immediately.  
"S.H.I.E.L.D. ComNet Authorization. Please speak your authorization code."  
"Gulo gulo," he growled into the microphone. It was bad enough when he made a regular telephone call and got a machine on the other end of the line. It was worse when government agencies used the blasted things. There was a lengthy pause and then a human voice came over the line.  
"I'm sorry sir; may I ask you to hold a moment?"  
Logan grunted an affirmative and pulled onto the shoulder. If he had to argue with another snot-nosed military communications brat, he didn't want to chance an accident. He heard the officer on the other end set the telephone down. The boy didn't put him on hold, just lay the receiver down. Idiot.  
He slapped the visor down on his helmet, locking the external sounds of the highway out and strained his ears.  
"...it's an older code, sir, but it checks out. I was about to clear him.[2]" There was a pause. "Shall I hang up on him?"  
"No, put him through. Fury is expecting this one."  
There was a shuffle and scrape on the other end, and then a surprised gasp as the young officer apparently noticed the line hadn't been held.  
"I'm terribly sorry for the wait, sir. I'll transfer you now," he said. Logan smirked. Kids these days. Another long moment passed.  
"Fury." The Colonel sounded old these days. Logan wondered for a brief moment if the guy was feeling his age. He shrugged that off.  
"Hiya, Nick."  
"Logan? Hang on." There was a crackle of static. "All right, this line is now super-encrypted. What can I do for you?"  
"I need the location of a former SAC base outside of Denver. Near the town of Bennett," Logan told his old comrade. There was a wary silence on the other end of the line. He tapped his helmet to make sure it was still active.  
"This conversation didn't happen," Fury said finally.  
"Of course. Now where is it?"  
  
Bobby adjusted his gloves and checked over his uniform. Man, he thought with a roll of his eyes, the Prof needs a better sense of style. This outfit just doesn't work. I mean, come on. Black and yellow? We're X-Men, not hornets. It wasn't fair, he thought. All the older X-Men have cool uniforms!  
Well, ok, Scott's still sucks. But he's got a serious stick up his butt anyway. Serves him right. He glanced sideways at Kitty who was checking her own outfit.  
"Think this Sean is as cool as he talks?" he asked her with a playful smirk. He liked Kitty - she was a year older than he was, right at that age when she started looking like a woman, but still acted girlish once in a while. Gave him plenty of ammunition when it came time to tease.  
"He sounds like he knows what he's doing. Rahne says he's, like, done the hero bit in Ireland for the last few years," she said. "Kinda old though, isn't he? I mean, if he was here with Storm and everything."  
Bobby nodded. Good point, that. Not that Storm was old or anything, but she was such an...an...adult...sometimes.  
"Storm? Aye, we studied t'gether. Charles helped bo' of we through tough times."  
Bobby exchanged a quick look with Kitty, who raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'Not too old to sneak up on us, you dimwit.' Ok, maybe the guy was just that good.  
"Ye kids all right?" Bobby seriously wished the man would do something other than smile all the time. Not that he was going to say that out loud. There had to be some truth to what was said about red-haired people. "I set th' room up fer a Level Eleven training routine. Be ready when the doors open."  
Bobby gaped at the Irishman. "Level..."  
"...ELEVEN?!" Kitty squeaked, blushing when Sean turned his Irish charm her way and nodded with that same silly grin.  
"Sure! A good workout should distract ye," he told them. Bobby sighed inwardly. This was going to hurt. Level Seven was as far as Logan had let them, uh, attempt so far. And that had been a fiasco.  
He shook his head and turned back toward his door, watching the clock wind down to zero. Whatever scenario Sean had chosen required them to go in through different doors. That meant it was probably every-mutant-for- him-or-herself. The lights in the anteroom shut off at 10, leaving only the large red LED glowing sullenly on the wall above him.  
"What's the goal?" he heard Kitty say behind him.  
"And spoil yer fun?"  
Bobby groaned.  
  
"Hank, look a' this."  
The big furry mutant carefully set down the beaker he was examining and removed his glasses. He wiped his hands absently on a rag and strode over to the only empty table in his lab, where Moira was laying out pictures from her own research into the drug he'd found in Pietro's bloodstream.  
"Are those photographs from the electron microscope?" he asked. They certainly looked like it. The Scotswoman had laid out a total of sixteen of the large black-and-white prints in two rows of eight. He picked up the first one on the left.  
The woman nodded, a quick and efficient motion, and pointed at the one he held.  
"I took th' liberty o' using some o' the blood samples ye had in the freezer and running tests. Tha' one is," she peered past his elbow at her scrawled handwriting, "Mr. Summers' bloodstream before th' introduction of th' venom." She picked up another from the table and held it up next to the one in his hand. "An' this'n is after."  
Hank blinked, frowning down at the two photographs. He recognized everything present on each of them but, if he wasn't mistaken, there didn't seem to be any difference in the pictures. Apparently his confusion showed on his face because Moira picked up another pair and held them up.  
"A'right, look a' these," she told him. Hank carefully set down the photos he was holding and took the new ones.  
"You tested this on my blood?"  
Moira chuckled. "It was available and I wanted to make sure th' venom had the same effect on everyone."  
"Hmm." He looked closer at the 'after' picture. Unlike Scott's, there was clear evidence of damage of some sort. "How interesting. The blood cells seem to have randomly mutated as though exposed to high-level radiation." He suppressed a shudder and studied the rest of the photographs, then had a thought.  
"Wha' are ye doin'?" Moira asked as he shoved aside the 'before' photos and divided up the remainder between two stacks.  
"Testing a theory," he grunted as he finished. "You have any more of these?"  
"Aye. I just need to develop the prints," Moira said, perplexed.  
"Get them."  
Ten minutes later, Hank and Moira were seated in the kitchen. The Scotswoman had a cup of tea in front of her and was blowing on it to cool. Hank was doing the same, though his mug was a homemade job fashioned from a 6-pound coffee tin and a cabinet handle. He just couldn't fit his fingers into the handles of any other mugs any more. Jean sat down across from them, cracking open a can of soda and flipping through the photos.  
"Ewg. What are these?"  
"Blood," Hank said in the cheesiest Dracula imitation he could manage. Moira shot him a look and passed Jean the yellow legal pad Hank had scribbled on.  
"Yer blood, actually," she said as Jean looked at the two of them. Hank hid a smirk behind his huge tea mug. "Well, yers and some o' the other students, tha' is."  
Jean made a face. "Why do some of them look, um." She visibly groped for a word, looping a hand in the air.  
"Screwed up?" Hank offered. "Moira ran tests on the blood samples we keep in the freezer downstairs. What do you see wrong?"  
  
Jean frowned thoughtfully then studied the top photo, Pietro's as it turned out. She'd seen blood under a microscope in the past. That nasty biology class in high school - note to self, bio is an elective at NYU - was one place. Mr. McCoy's lab in the basement was another. She'd never seen anything like this before, though. It looked all wrong. The cells were misshapen and mutated almost beyond recognition. Discolored too, though it was hard to tell with black-and-white prints.  
"Don't hold back, girl," Doctor MacTaggart told her. "Hank says yer a bright one. Dazzle us." She glanced up, but the older woman had a smile on her face and nodded at her encouragingly as she took a sip from her mug. Jean looked at the next photograph in the stack of nearly twenty. Ororo's looked normal. Hm.  
"I assume that this," she pointed at a strange shape that appeared on both photos, "is the venom." When Mr. McCoy nodded, she looked back at the two pictures. She shook her head. She'd planned to study psychology, not medicine, when she started university in a couple months.  
Mr. McCoy reached across and scooped up the stack in his huge hands, flipping through and sorting them into two piles. Tapping the piles, he said, "All right, an easier question. What's the difference between the people in this stack and this one?"  
Jean noticed that all the ugly mutations were in one stack. Mr. McCoy, Logan, Pietro, Kurt, Fred and a few others. The other stack was larger. Wait a minute.  
"You and Logan have mutations that don't turn off. Your feral rage and his self-healing. Pietro's speed, Kurt and Fred's physical mutation, Scott's optic blasts," she said as it dawned on her. She looked through the other stack quickly, and it confirmed her theory. "Everyone else's powers require activation," she tapped Bobby and Sam's photos, "or conscious use." She slapped a hand on her own picture.  
"Right," Mr. McCoy said. "This means that everyone in the other stack is in danger if they become infected by the venom. At least until Moira and I can find an antidote. Apparently this X-Venom only does harm when a mutant power is used. For those of us whose mutations are constant..."  
"It could kill ye," Doctor MacTaggart finished for as the big blue mutant trailed off, staring into his coffee cups. "No idea as t' how long," she went on, answering the question in Jean's eyes. "But if I'd t' guess, based on preliminary evidence and tests, well." The woman paused, taking a sip from her tea. "Four, five days. Maybe a week for th' stronger ones."  
Jean caught a fleeting image of fear and rage from the woman before she reeled in her psychic power. She didn't say anything out loud, however, because a wave of disgust and anger of her own welled up inside her. Pursing her lips, she bit back a curse.  
"What's Magneto going to do with this?" Jean muttered under her breath.  
"Nothing, if we can help it." Well, that was the truth. It didn't answer her question, though. There were times when Mr. McCoy's optimism grated on her.  
She nodded, flipping through the photographs. Then her blood drained from her face.  
"Oh no," she whispered. "Logan. Your pictures show that he's one of the ones who could be killed from this."  
She watched as Doctor MacTaggart and Mr. McCoy exchanged a look. Apparently they'd already discussed this.  
"Yes," Mr. McCoy said after a long moment. "We're moving up the rescue attempt. You'll need to leave tomorrow morning with the people we have here."  
Jean blinked. "Wait, what about you?" The big man shook his head.  
"I'll be here with Moira. We're very close to developing an anti- venom."  
"But..." Oh crap! Jean wasn't sure she could do the whole leadership thing.  
"Jean," Doctor MacTaggart said gently. "N' one is asking you t' coordinate this rescue." The older woman sighed. "Logan will b' out there and nothing ye can do will keep him from trying t' help Charles - even if it kills 'im." Jean nodded, relieved. "Sean will be along with you youngsters, too."  
That was a relief. Sort of. Jean didn't know Mr. Cassidy very well, but from what she'd read in Cerebro's files, the jolly Irishman had more or less filled the same role that Scott did when he'd studied at the school. If nothing else, she was grateful to have someone more experienced than her running this show. She knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if the Professor was hurt because of something she did.  
Jean tossed her empty soda can into the recycling bin. "Who all is going, then?"  
Mr. McCoy flipped a page on his notepad. "Well, Logan is already out there. You and Sean. Rahne and Kitty. Bobby, of course. Doug, if he's willing to go along," he said. There was a very pregnant pause and Jean realized after a long moment that he was finished. She shook her head.  
"Wait, wait," Jean said. "What about Kurt? Or Pietro, if he's up to it?"  
Doctor MacTaggart fielded that question. "No. It's too dangerous. Their mutations are constantly in effect."  
"They could be killed if Magneto manages to infect them," Mr. McCoy added rather bluntly.  
Jean shoved the photos out of the way and laid her head on the table.  
"Oh my God," she breathed. "We're going to get smushed." She felt rather than saw Mr. McCoy's large hand patting her head. This was going to be tough, at the very least. Seven people and only one, perhaps two, of them were heavy hitters. What if Logan was taken out of the picture somehow? What would happen if Sabretooth or Colossus came after them? None of the rest of them could go toe to toe with those two. It would invite suicide.  
Jean dimly heard the doorbell ring, but ignored it. Doctor MacTaggart excused herself and went for the front door which suited Jean just fine. She suddenly felt too tired to get out of the chair and answer the door. Just lay at the table, she told herself. Just fall asleep here. Maybe everything will be better when you wake up? The last thing she wanted was to fail the Professor and with this roster, the odds of that not happening weren't too promising. Heavy footfalls interrupted her thoughts. She raised her head from that table and looked toward the door.  
The man was shorter than Scott, maybe five-ten or -eleven. Older, too. Mid-thirties, she thought, and pretty handsome for all that. His blond hair was set in a conservative style and he glanced at her with eyes the color of robin's eggs. She watched those baby blues go wide as he took in Mr. McCoy.  
Well, that was understandable anyway.  
"Can I take your coat?" Doctor MacTaggart was asking. Jean smiled inwardly, as the woman had to repeat the question twice before getting any response. The man shook his head.  
"Thanks, but that isn't necessary," the man said in a clear, strong voice.  
Ok, maybe late twenties instead. He didn't sound like a thirty- something.  
She had to wonder at the wisdom of his decision, though. That overcoat might be appropriate for spring or fall, but it was close to ninety outside and getting more humid as the day went on.  
"Hi," Mr. McCoy said to the stranger. The blond man visibly jumped as the hulking, furry mutant offered his hand. "I'm Hank."  
The blond stared at the hand for a moment. "It talks?"  
Mr. McCoy withdrew his hand and turned to back to the tea kettle, muttering darkly under his breath. Jean suppressed a giggle. This guy wasn't frightened at all, just shocked. And it amused the heck out of her.  
"He quotes Shakespeare on occasion, too," she told him. "I'm -"  
"Jean Grey," the man interrupted her. "My name is Warren. Your friend Scott mentioned you when he called."  
"When he what?"  
"Called," Warren repeated. "Collect, I might add. Doesn't your Professor give you kids telephone cards?" Jean bristled slightly. Kids? Ok, definitely in the thirties somewhere. Maybe a soft forty. She waved at a chair.  
Warren looked blankly at the chair for a moment, and then perched on the very edge of it with a vaguely uncomfortable look. Jean watched him fidget for a few moments.  
"You were saying?" Doctor MacTaggart prompted.  
Warren shifted slightly. "Yes, well. Scott mentioned that you might need a guardian angel for the next few days."  
Jean blinked. "He told you about the Professor?"  
Warren nodded, still squirming.  
"Scott helped me out a bit last holiday season," he said as he shuffled around, "and I sort of owe him a favor so here I am. Excuse me," he said, standing. He shrugged out of the heavy overcoat and handed it off to a very satisfied looking Doctor MacTaggart. Now it was Jean's turn to stare.  
"Are those...?"  
Warren nodded and blushed as he shook his wings out to lie comfortably alongside his chair like a white feather cloak.  
"Yes."  
  
It wasn't until Kurt had trouble seeing the white lines on the basketball court that he realized that he'd been watching Pietro play ball all day. His stomach growled loudly. He shrugged it off, deciding to grab a bite to eat in just a little while.  
Instead, he stood and stretched, then swung easily over the edge of the balcony to land on the patio. He walked over to the basketball court, where Pietro was still tossing the ball around. The other boy didn't seem to notice him at all. Kurt mentally preened. Darn, he was good.  
As he drew closer to the court, he took a closer look at Pietro. Not surprisingly, he was drenched from jogging up and down the court all afternoon. Kurt stopped within ten feet of the other boy, ears twitching. Hm. Was he being deliberately ignored?  
He stood like that for perhaps five minutes before his patience wore thin.  
[Bamf!]  
"What-the-hell-are-you-doing?!"  
Kurt grinned from his perch atop the backboard, gripping the fiberglass board with his feet and tail. He spun the basketball he'd caught on one finger, and then jumped nimbly to the ground.  
"You've been out here all day. Aren't you tired?"  
A sullen snort. "No." Pietro turned away, crossing his arms.  
Kurt stepped closer, dribbling the ball. There was a dark, wet stain on Pietro's jersey. He shook his head. Idiot.  
"You're hurt, ja?"  
Pietro glared at him with dead eyes for an instant, and then turned away again. The arrogant routine was really starting to grate on Kurt. Flipping the ball over his shoulder, he caught it with his tail and set it on the ground. Irritated, he poked a finger at the middle of the stain and was rewarded with a hiss of pain. The speedster smacked his hand away.  
"For a guy who teleports, you're not very good at getting lost when you're not wanted," Pietro growled at him.  
Kurt poked him again.  
"I said, quit that!" Pietro rounded on him and Kurt took a step back, surprised.  
The other boy bared his teeth at him, still breathing heavy from his workout. His pale face was flushed and glistening with perspiration and ... tears? It must have registered on his face, because Pietro turned around and started walking toward the mansion, wiping an arm across his eyes.  
Well, he was right, Kurt thought. I am pretty good at not getting lost when I'm not wanted. So he followed, catching up with the other teen in a couple of four-limbed bounds. They walked along in silence for a moment. Or mostly silence. Kurt's ears twitched and he realized Pietro was muttering something under his breath.  
"...kill that sonovabitch if he's hurt her..."  
Without thinking, Kurt reached out and squeezed Pietro's shoulder.  
"Ve'll get your sister back. I promise." Pietro stopped and just looked at him for a moment. He cleared his throat a couple times.  
"Thanks," the white-haired teen said in a thick voice.  
"First things first, though," Kurt went on as though half the people he knew weren't in mortal danger. He wrinkled his nose. "You need a shower, and I need to eat." His stomach rumbled again as if to reinforce that point.  
Pietro smirked and a trace of his old humor came back into his eyes for just a brief moment. "Yeah, sure," he said. "A guy's gotta have priorities."  
  
------  
  
[1]: Uh, I'm not going to translate this word. It's kinda crude. Feel free to look it up on your own.  
  
[2]: Why, yes. This is indeed a homage to 'Return of the Jedi.'  
  
------  
  
Other notes: Yes, there is a Bennett, Colorado. No, I have no idea if Strategic Air Command had any bases out there. That's why this is fiction. Again, apologies if the story went a little slow. It was necessary to bring almost all the major good guys into the picture. I'm sorry if Jean seems like a wuss, but let's face it: Scott is the leader of the group. Jean is a soldier, not an officer, so of course she'd be having kittens over having to lead and coordinate a group. It's called DRAMA folks. If I made her as vanilla as she is on the show, writing this would put me to sleep. I'm also sorry if Pietro sounds like a whiny little bitch in the last part.  
  
Actually, that last sentence is utter bull. I'm not sorry at all. His father tried to kill him, his sister has been kidnapped by that madman and he's only about a week out from seeing people he knew get plastered into putty. He's stuck in the slow lane due to the X-Venom's effects on his mutation, his only refuge is with a group of people he can barely tolerate and the most loathsome of the group has been hanging around him the entire time.  
  
You'd be on the verge of a breakdown too. Frankly, I'm surprised he lasted four chapters before starting to crack. Oh well, there's always the next installment. Heh. Heh. Heh.  
  
Cheers, folks. 


	7. Nervous Tension

------  
The moon was full. Wolverine crept up the hillside, staying in shadows as best he could. It would have been far easier without the moonlight. Still, he had no trouble at all keeping himself hidden from the figure atop the small rise. Like his namesake, he was quite at home in the wild.  
Another quiet step and he was at the top. He crouched behind a tree, testing the wind. The light summer breeze carried the scent of the prairie to him, as well as the scent of the man he was stalking. It wasn't hard to follow his nose. Not many prairie dogs wore CK One cologne. Breathing softly, he flicked a glance at his quarry.  
The idiot was standing silhouetted against the moonlit sky, obviously a rookie at the whole espionage game. The wind stirred the man's frock coat, bringing the sound of whispering satin to Logan's ears. As he watched, the man brought a small pair of binoculars to his eyes and swept the area beyond the hill. Colonel Fury had informed Logan that the abandoned LeMay Air Force Base lay nestled in the low valley there. The man hadn't been willing to divulge details of exactly why the base wasn't listed in the national registry, but Logan had scouted it earlier in the evening from the other side and it did indeed exist. The binoculars came down and the stranger pressed a hand to his ear, speaking in a low tone into what he assumed was a lapel microphone.  
"Still quiet. I don' t'ink anyone's coming out."  
Where had he heard that voice before? Logan slipped a little closer, until he was directly behind the man and sniffed the air again. Suddenly it came to him and he suppressed a deep growl as he recognized the scent. Instead, he sneaked up behind the lone figure and placed his fist at the back of the man's slender neck.  
[Snikt!]  
Logan's lips curled back in a feral grin as his outermost claws slipped past his opponent's neck. A gentle flexing of his forearm brought the center blade out just enough to tap the back of the spine.  
"Game over, bub," he said in a low voice.  
The man froze, dropping the binoculars and spreading his arms. Logan watched with a strange amusement as his prey reached a tentative left hand to one of his claws, testing it with a finger. A hiss and the bleeding finger was brought up to the lips.  
"Merde," Gambit swore in a heavy Creole accent. "If you'll excuse me..."  
The Southerner quickly bowed forward to get his head free of Logan's claws, drawing a thin line of blood along the right side of his neck as he did so. Logan cursed and flicked all his claws out as the wily Cajun dropped to all fours. Before he could get his balance, the smaller man spun in an arc, sweeping his feet out from under him. Logan went down hard, rolling to soften the impact of the ground.  
He scrambled to his feet as the red-eyed mutant flexed his spine and flipped to his own.  
"Don't make this hard on yourself, boy," he growled as they circled one another.  
Gambit didn't respond in words; instead, he made a curious gesture and a long steel bar slipped into his left hand. With the ease of practice, the Cajun snapped the rod to one side, extending it to nearly three feet.  
Logan's eyes narrowed. The kid wanted to play hardball, it seemed.  
"You think an ASP [1] is going to save your hide?" he asked in an amused voice.  
"Non, not really," Gambit replied, snapping the long bar again. Another extension shot out and clicked into place. The man smirked and spun the rod (now a staff) in a lazy arc. "It might buy me a minute or two while I call fo' backup, though." He reached his hand up to the earpiece.  
Logan didn't waste any time. He feinted to his right, drawing the staff away from the other man's body. Ducking the staff, he retracted two of his right-hand claws and lashed his hand out. Years of training and practice had given him the ability to judge his extended reach. Gambit yelped as the claw came whistling past the side of his head, severing the cord to the microphone.  
"Ya better yell really loud, then."  
Gambit snarled and spun the staff around. Logan blocked with his claws, which screeched down the metal of the staff rather than cutting into it. Adamantium. Damn it.  
With no way to disarm the kid without cutting off a limb, Logan settled into a pattern of attack, parry, and counterattack. This guy wasn't too bad a fighter, he noted as he ducked aside from a roundhouse kick. A little raw, perhaps, and way too into the power moves, but not too bad. Logan grinned to himself. The problem was that this kid wasn't built for power moves. Time to point out that little error.  
[Snikt!]  
Logan snapped his claws back into his arms, the holes in his flesh healing almost quicker than they appeared. With a quick lunge, he grabbed the staff in both hands and held fast.  
"Say goodnight, Gracie," he told the smaller man. Gambit's blood-red eyes widened and he started struggling harder, trying to wrestle his toy away from Logan. The big mutant had no intention of letting go. Gambit must have seen this in his eyes, for he struggled all the harder.  
Not hard enough. With a quick movement, Logan wrenched the staff toward himself, jerking the smaller mutant face to face with him. For a surprised moment, there was stillness on the hilltop. Logan could see his own reflection in Gambit's wild eyes.  
Then he smashed his forehead into Gambit's face. The kid's nose gave way with a satisfying crunch and then he slid to the ground. Logan pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped a smear of blood off his forehead. Bending over the unconscious boy, he rifled through the pockets of the frock coat.  
Not much. Not even a wallet. Just the binoculars, a deck of playing cards, a burrito, and the power supply for the earphone. Wait a minute. Logan frowned, pulling a slim leather case from the inside breast pocket of the coat. He flipped it open, tilting it toward the moon to read it.  
"You gotta be kiddin' me," he muttered in disbelief.  
  
Breakfast at the mansion was an exercise in concealed tension. Jean poked at her scrambled eggs with a listless fork, apprehensive about the mission ahead of those gathered around the table. Shrugging off a feeling of dread, she concentrated on the seasoning salt and floated it toward her. Bobby's cooking left a lot to be desired.  
As she tapped the shaker over the rubbery eggs, she glanced around the table. Conversation was muted and brief, she noticed. Everyone seemed preoccupied; the usual good-natured morning chaos was replaced by what might have been a scene from 'Oliver Twist.' It was an eerie silence.  
Well, for the most part.  
Despite the apparent lack of taste Kurt was putting away a huge amount of food, as usual. Jean wondered where he'd gotten the pancakes, and then noticed the empty platter sitting in front of Kurt. Oh. It hadn't reached her. That was nothing unusual around here. At least some things hadn't changed.  
Sean (he wouldn't let anyone call him Mr. Cassidy, as he thought it made him sound like an old fuddy-duddy) was sitting to the left of Doctor MacTaggart near the head of the table, laughing loudly at some joke. Everyone turned to stare at him as he set his fork down and wiped at his eyes with his napkin. He chuckled on for a moment, and then looked at the staring mutants around him.  
"I'm sorry. Was I interruptin' yer morbid thoughts o' failure or somethin'," he asked with his customary joviality. He smiled at each of them in turn as he said it. Jean rolled her eyes at him. She knew he was trying to lighten the mood - and he apparently succeeded. Conversation returned close to normal and the sound level of the room increased dramatically.  
Turning back to her plate, she found Warren's eye upon her from across the table. She raised an eyebrow at him as she took a bite.  
"They don't think we can get your friends back, do they?" he asked her. He spoke in a voice low enough that Jean had to strain to hear it. He gestured with his knife, indicating the younger mutants, who were laughing as Bobby froze a spoon in his orange juice. "This," he groped for a word, "circus behavior masks their fear. The kids think we can't save the Professor and the others."  
Jean shrugged and took a sip from her tea, the one thing Bobby had managed to get right. She watched as the younger teen pulled the now- frozen orange juice from his glass and started licking it like a Popsicle. Doug and Kitty applauded him roundly.  
"We can do it," she said, meeting Warren's steady gaze. A thought occurred to her. "Do you think we're going to fail?" she added. Too late, she realized she'd spoken loud enough to be heard around the table. Conversation died again as everyone stared at her. Bowing her head over her plate, she set her mug down with a clatter.  
"Jean," Mr. McCoy began from his place to her right at the foot of the table. She shook her head in response, cutting him off. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed her chair back and stood up. She dropped her napkin on the table and crossed her arms, looking at the assembled mutants.  
"We're going to get the Professor and everyone else out of whereever Magneto is holding them," Jean told them in a clear, ringing voice. The words fell like a hammer on those gathered around her and she saw several of the younger mutants flinch. Undaunted, she continued.  
"I think we all agree that their safety comes before our own. With this X-Venom on the playing board, the job will be harder but not impossible." To Jean's relief, Doctor MacTaggart nodded approval her way. For some reason, the older woman's approval meant a great deal to her. "We've trained for a long time to help people and this is important. Do any of you really think we can possibly lose?"  
To her surprise, it was Kitty that spoke up. The usually-optimistic girl spoke in a wavering voice.  
"We're, like, not equipped for offense, Jean," she said in a high, panicky voice. "Look around. Without Scott's nuclear eyeballs or Rogue's draining ability," she paused and blushed, "or Lance's earthquakes or even Fred's bulk, what can we do to hurt them?" The other younger kids nodded, with the exception of Doug, who didn't know any of the aforementioned mutants.  
"Bobby?" The boy looked up at Jean. "Pietro? Kurt? Look around you." She watched as the younger teens exchanged bewildered glances. Mr. McCoy nodded at her to continue and she caught a concealed thumbs-up from Sean as well.  
"We're not trying to hurt Magneto and his Acolytes," Jean said in a firm voice. "And the talents around this table are uniquely suited for helping others." She pointed at Kitty, who startled. "You can phase our friends out. Warren here can fly. So can Sean," she said. Sean shook his head slightly and she didn't mention his other powers. "Bobby's ice and my own psionic shields can protect people. Rahne's werewolf form will provide us with whatever offensive power we need."  
Doug raised a hand. One thing Jean had learned during their time together the day before was that he was an extremely well-mannered young man. She wondered how long it would take for the other students to grind that away from him.  
"What about me?" he asked when she gestured for him to speak. He looked around at his peers. "I'm just a linguist. I can't do force fields or fly or any of that stuff. I want to help, but I don't know how."  
Jean had to agree with him. She fumbled for a moment and exchanged a glance with Mr. McCoy. Thankfully, the big blue mutant stood up to help.  
"You're a strong young man," he rumbled at Doug. "If someone was wounded in the coming fight, do you think you could possibly pull them to cover?" Doug nodded slowly, comprehension dawning. "If one of the prisoners needed carried to safety, could you do that?" When Doug nodded again, the big man spread his hands. "You don't necessarily have to use a mutant ability to be of help to the team, Doug. As long as you're willing to take risks while under fire, as it were, then you'll make a welcome addition." He sat back down and patted Jean's hand for her to continue.  
"That's about it, actually," she told the waiting table. "Doctor MacTaggart and Mr. McCoy will be remaining behind to work on an anti-venom. Danger room session in twenty minutes. One last run before we fly out. Kitty," she said to the girl. "You and Rahne will be on Sean's team. Warren, you and Doug are with me. Bobby, I need you to get the X-Jet prepped for departure." Bobby nodded, pushing his plate back.  
"We leave at nine," she concluded, picking up her own dishes to take them to the kitchen.  
Kurt and Pietro exchanged a glance.  
"Vat about us?" Kurt asked quickly.  
"Excuse-me? You-forgot-a-couple of us?" Pietro demanded at the same time.  
Doctor MacTaggart cleared her throat loudly. Two pairs of eyes, blue and yellow, flashed toward the far end of the table.  
"Yer no' going," the woman said simply. She wiped her mouth with a dainty gesture and carefully folded her napkin. "The X-Venom works too rapidly on your individual cell structures."  
Kurt opened his mouth to object. Pietro beat him to it.  
"Whaddya mean?"  
"Everyone else who's going on this mission can avoid the effects of the toxin simply by not using their powers," Mr. McCoy told the two boys. "You can't, so you're not going. Simple as that."  
Both teens yowled in protest and started arguing with the two adults at the ends of the table. Everyone else watched the display with interest, heads swiveling between Doctor MacTaggart, Mr. McCoy, Kurt and Pietro like a four-way tennis match. This went on for a couple minutes before Jean got irritated. With a mental shriek, she cut through the chatter.  
Kurt rubbed at his ears and glared at her with a wounded look in his eyes.  
"But Jean," he began.  
She cut him off with a wave of her hand, slopping tea over the rim of her mug in the process. "No buts. You're staying here where it's safe." With that final word, she whirled and strode out of the room.  
  
Kurt fumed as he paced the second floor hall way. It wasn't fair! He could help just as much as any of the other mutants but Mr. McCoy and that Scottish woman wouldn't let him go. He ground his teeth, disgusted with his mutation more than usual. At least he'd been training with the X- Men for over a year, unlike that new kid. Why was he being allowed along at all? It's not like he'd be able to do much.  
He wandered past the guest bedrooms, lost in thought. Jean was the weak link among the adults. Maybe if he talked to her privately, he could convince her to let him go along. No, that wouldn't work. They were leaving fifteen minutes after the training simulation was finished. He wouldn't have a chance to talk to her before the plane took off.  
"Verdammt!" he hissed. A movement in the room he was passing caught his attention. Oh, that's right. This was the room Pietro was using. He peeked inside out of curiosity.  
Pietro was standing with his back to the door, and didn't notice Kurt at all. The white-haired teen was shrugging into a black tunic that obviously wasn't his standard uniform. Aha. So that's why Bobby was complaining last night. The iceman and the speedster were about the same size. Almost, anyway. He watched Pietro grope at the sides of the shirt, which were obviously too baggy.  
"What is up with all the yellow?" he heard the other boy mutter. Pietro ripped the X-insignia from the shoulders with a sharp tug, grunting approval. "Much better," he said as he picked the last stray threads from the uniform. Then he threaded a wide black belt through the loops on the pants, discarding the bright yellow belt. Finally he added a pair of thin leather driving gloves. That done, Pietro smoothed the uniform down and turned toward the door.  
The effect, Kurt thought, was a mixture of sinister and amusing. Pietro looked like a bleached version of Luke Skywalker. All the dark clothing brought out the bluish highlights under his skin, bringing a deathly pallor to his face. Kurt was starkly reminded that the Brotherhood mutant was not entirely healthy.  
Pietro sneered at him. "Why won't you just leave me alone?" he snapped, trying to shove past Kurt.  
Kurt put his hand on the other boy's chest and pushed him back into the room, flicking a glance over his shoulder. No one was in the hallway. Good. He moved in and shut the door behind him, stepping back to lean against it. Crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned at Pietro.  
"You are going somewhere, ja?" Kurt asked quietly. Pietro tried wrenching him out of the way, but he shifted his balance and held the door firmly shut.  
"I'm sneaking onto the plane, as soon as you move out of the damn way," the speedster growled at him.  
Kurt shook his head. "It won't work. Jean vill check the jet before they leave."  
"I'll deal with that when it happens." Pietro shoved at him again and Kurt again held firm. Keeping Pietro away from the door was becoming more difficult. With a primal sound, the white-haired teen blurred toward him.  
"M-move it!"  
Kurt had a fraction of a second to react before getting punched in the face. He made a quick decision. Meeting Pietro halfway, he wrapped all five limbs around the other boy and knocked him of his feet, holding fast. The speedster resisted for a couple long, struggling minutes and Kurt wasn't sure he could hold on to the squirming body for much longer.  
Lucky for Kurt, the writhing was replaced with a choked sob just as his own strength gave out. He scrambled off Pietro and backed toward the door in case this was a ruse. It wasn't.  
"Quecksilber?" he asked, unconsciously slipping into German. The other teen didn't reply, just curled up in a ball and shuddered. "Vat's wrong?"  
Pietro swallowed hard, eyes wide. Kurt had to lean slightly closer to hear him.  
"Hurts."  
Of course. The idiot thought to use his power to get past him and the X-Venom had attacked his system. Crap. What to do? Herr McCoy would have a kitten if he dragged Pietro down to the lab in this outfit.  
Kurt didn't know what to do, but he knew he had to do something.  
[Bamf!] [Bamf!]  
He helped Pietro into a sitting position and handed him the glass of water and the aspirin he'd fetched from one of the bathrooms. Pietro chugged half the glass at once, but disregarded the tablet. Kurt was a little worried, to tell the truth. Pietro was normally very fair-skinned, but the combination of black clothing and intense pain turned him almost freakishly pale. Kurt crouched near the white-haired teen wondering if perhaps he shouldn't just go for Herr McCoy or Doktor MacTaggart. After a moment, he noticed Pietro looking at him thoughtfully.  
"Vat?"  
"What's the range on your teleport?" Pietro asked.  
Kurt thought that one over for a couple moments. "Three, maybe three- und-a-half kilometers, perhaps." Blank stare. "Two miles more or less, ja?"  
Pietro nodded and struggled to his feet, leaning against a dresser for support.  
"All right, I wanna help Lance and Todd. You wanna help get your Prof back," he said to Kurt, who nodded. "All right, I've got an idea."  
  
Jean buckled herself into the seat behind the pilot's chair on the X- Jet, settling herself comfortably into her seat. Around her, the other mutants were doing the same. Bobby, thank heaven, wasn't going to be the one flying this machine. Sean, as it turned out, had been one of the first people to check out on the controls when the plane had been new.  
A crackle from the communications panel caught her ear and she leaned around to look at the monitor. Mr. McCoy appeared, looking like a b-movie extra with his white doctor's jacket and eyeglasses.  
"I've uploaded the weather patterns to the onboard system. Watch out for that thunderstorm system around St. Louis," he said to Sean, who nodded. The Irishman was flipping controls and switches like an old pro. "I also took the liberty of filing a flight plan that will get you there in around three hours. There wasn't any trouble from the authorities."  
"Good, good," Sean replied. Mr. McCoy looked off-camera and pushed his chair back. A moment later, Doctor MacTaggart moved into the screen.  
"Jean," the woman said. "Don' ferget what we talked about." Jean nodded at the monitor.  
"We're ready t' go," Sean said. "Be back in a bit, luv," he told the doctor with a jaunty grin. "Just ha' t' run out and get a few things first."  
Jean set her hand on his shoulder. "Wait a moment."  
Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind, sweeping the entire jet to make sure there weren't any unwelcome stowaways. A part of her felt guilty as she realized how much being left behind would hurt Kurt and Pietro, but then she steeled herself. She didn't want their blood on her hands. Bad enough that the prospects for success already looked so grim.  
A moment later, she was satisfied the two boys weren't anywhere near the plane. In fact, she'd found them in the conservatory again, well away from the hangar.  
Tapping Sean on the shoulder, she opened her eyes.  
"They're clear. We can leave."  
Sean grunted a reply and tripped the brakes. Jean leaned back into her seat as the jet started rolling forward. They were going to run into turbulence, she thought, and not just in the air.  
  
Pietro, Kurt noticed, had serious issues with height.  
"Calm down," Kurt said to the other mutant. A green light blinked on the handheld computer he carried. "Ah, there they go." He grabbed Pietro's wrist.  
[Bamf!]  
Pietro reeled slightly as the roof suddenly disappeared, only to be replaced by ankle-high grass. So far so good, thought Kurt as he steadied the other teen.  
"Are you all right?"  
"I'm fine, just tired." Kurt had a brief misgiving at that point. They could just stay behind. Pietro certainly wasn't in any condition to do much in the way of help. Kurt shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was get infected with that nasty toxin. Oh well, sometimes you have to take risks.  
He nodded, scanning the area below the cliff face. The waterfall that hid the runway was located just below them, which meant that the jet would appear right...about...now.  
"Hold on," he said, grabbing Pietro's wrist again.  
[Bamf!]  
  
Bobby wrinkled his nose. Man, something reeked in here. He leaned over to Kitty, whispering loudly above the drone of the turbojets.  
"Do you smell something?" he asked her.  
She looked at him with a disgusted look, obviously thinking the worst.  
How odd, he thought as the cabin filtration system kicked in. For a moment, it almost smelled like Kurt had 'ported into the plane.  
  
------  
  
Sailor X1: Oh, good. I wasn't sure if Jean was coming across as too wishy- washy. Nice to know that doesn't seem to be the case. As for Pietro cracking, that's just more drama. Emotional conflicts are fun to write and this one is more fun than most.  
  
Jacob: Thanks for the generous comments. :) I don't know if my characterizations are on or not - it's a bloody cartoon, for crying out loud - but at least they're interesting to people, eh? Half my major in university was in English, which probably explains the fluency. I stopped reading comic books (too expensive) a couple story arcs before the Legacy virus came into play, what, ten years ago? I'm sure that flipping through a couple issues at the time probably had a subconscious influence on the story, though there's no way to really tell. I needed a plot device that would make for a good 'Official Dastardly Plan' for Magneto to use and this was the result. Marvel, please don't sue me. Note that this X-Venom is a toxin, not a virus or a bacterium - sort of the same thing in a snake or spider bite. It's not a germ, but a poison that deals damage to a mutant's DNA, essentially targeting it when the mutation is in effect. As a general rule - e.g. compare, say, influenza with the venom of a king cobra; which will kill you quicker? - venoms are nastier and faster-working than any natural virus or the like. Logan's healing factor might slow the bugger down, but even as it heals, more cells will become corrupted as a result. In the end, he'll be just as dead.  
  
------  
  
[1]: An ASP, for those who don't recognize the term, is essentially a short, extendable nightstick with a heavily weighted end. In the United States, for the most part, they're used mainly by police and military security forces. With proper training an ASP can be more effective than a gun in close quarters. A single blow is enough to shatter bone. Think of that next time you decide to make fun of the police. ;)  
  
Cheers, folks. 


	8. Trouble Mounting

------  
"Ya mighta mentioned this, Nick."  
Logan was irate - he'd made that quite clear. That he hadn't lost his temper yet was a good sign, but Colonel Nick Fury, Chief of S.H.I.E.L.D. held no illusions on that score. The old man calmly listened to his speakerphone with half an ear, waiting for the man to take a breath. Opening a drawer in his desk, he withdrew a silver cigar case and pulled out a Havana. The one perk to this job, he thought, was the ability to actually get Cuban cigars despite the embargo.  
He bit the end off the cigar, a long-practiced gesture, and spat it into the garbage can. A moment or two later, he leaned back in his chair, puffing away. The perks didn't really outweigh the negative aspects, sometimes. This telephone call for example.  
"Look, will you let me explain?" he asked as Logan started to repeat himself.  
"Shoot." Oh, if only that was a solution.  
"I gave Professor Xavier a heads-up on that new Federal super-hero team last week. It's not my fault he didn't have a chance to pass anything on to you," he said in a calm voice.  
There was a heavy silence.  
"Gimmie the short version, Nick," growled Logan.  
Nick Fury sighed. This had already been a long night and it was only getting longer.  
"Fine, the short version is that the U.S. Marshals Service has a new Special Branch called Section X. Better known on Capitol Hill as X- Factor."  
"Why the Marshals? Why not the FBI?"  
"Because the Marshals have jurisdiction everywhere in the States, Logan. It's not bound by the same laws that the Bureau is." Perhaps if he spoke slowly and in small-syllable words, he could get this man off his line. "Think of it as a federal team of law-enforcing mutants. Deal with it."  
"Don't start with me, Nick. What else can you tell me about this X- Factor group?"  
Actually, nothing. He said as much.  
"Look, Fury," Logan snarled. "You're not helping here."  
"I'm sorry Logan, but the Marshals are keeping this team under wraps. For some reason they don't like the idea of their boys working for mine. Why are you so interested in them anyway?"  
Logan told him.  
"You just decked a Federal cop?"  
"Pretty much, yeah."  
  
Hank frowned and hung up the telephone. He'd come up from the lab, thinking he'd take a break from the research for a few minutes. He'd hit a wall in his search for an anti-venom; Moira was still downstairs, covering another angle, but it was slow going. Something in the X-Venom was repelling all attempts at neutralization and after nine straight hours of trying everything in the books, he was exhausted. What better way to relax, he thought, than a simple game of chess with the boys?  
Except he couldn't find them anywhere. He'd been out to the pool twice, thinking perhaps they'd be taking advantage of the better weather that afternoon. No luck there. Same with the kitchen, library, and their rooms. He was standing in the vast recreation room, glancing around with a perplexed look on his face and a cel phone in his hand.  
Hank had also checked the garage as it was common knowledge that Kurt, who had just received his training permit a few months before, liked to hotwire Scott's little roadster on occasion. Common knowledge to everyone except Scott, that is. Still, all the vehicles were parked in the garage.  
Now he'd just hung up on Forge, who was as mystified as he was. No, Forge had said, he didn't know where they were but would he please remind Kurt that he wanted his 'KC and the Sunshine Band' vinyl returned as soon as possible.  
Muttering under his breath, he returned to his lab in the basement. Moira looked up from the computer at his desk, where she was running simulations involving complex proteins.  
"Tha' was a quick break," she said with a raised eyebrow.  
"I thought I'd spend some time with the boys," he said, still frowning. "Cheer them up a bit, you know?"  
Moira chuckled. "Sounds like a good plan. Workin' down here all day will drive ye mad."  
Hank nodded absently.  
"It was a good plan. Except they're not anywhere on the grounds, so far as I can tell," he said. He was missing something, of that he was sure, but he couldn't figure out what it was.  
"Ye don' think...?"  
"What, that they somehow followed Sean and Jean and the others? Don't be silly." So much for taking a relaxing break. He leaned over the keyboard and punched a couple keys. "They'll probably show up when I cook supper. Have you tried this combination yet?"  
Moira shook her head, returning to the task in front of her.  
"Yer probably right."  
  
"Pietro?" Kurt whispered, shaking the other mutant's shoulder. He had teleported them into the cargo area of the X-Jet, which was decidedly dark and cramped. And cold. Not for the first time was Kurt happy that he had fur.  
Pietro, on the other hand, didn't have that luxury. He'd been tired to begin with, wrung out like a wet rag and strung out on painkillers and boredom since coming to the mansion several days before. Almost as soon as Kurt had 'ported them into the jet, Pietro had curled into a ball and tried to take a nap. There wasn't much room, however, and so it had taken several minutes for both of them to figure out a comfortable position. As it was, Kurt was really happy that Kitty wasn't here to see this. He was sitting cross-legged with his back to the door to the passenger compartment with Pietro's head in his lap. More than once during the trip, he'd found himself stroking Pietro's hair with his tail. Go figure.  
And now the jet was landing. Kurt poked at Pietro again, hoping to rouse the speedster. Pietro groaned and rolled over onto his back, eyes fluttering open in the darkness.  
"Why are you stroking my hair, you freak?"  
"Guten Morgen, sleepyhead. Don't be such a jerk. Ve're landing," Kurt told him.  
Pietro yawned, jaws cracking with the strain. "I don't suppose you have any idea how to get out of this freezing cargo bay, do you?" he asked.  
Kurt had had three hours in which to consider that problem.  
"Ve vait until the plane stops, then hit the button above my left shoulder," he said with a note of finality. He was pretty sure that the big glowing red button was the one for the door.  
"Why wait until it stops?" Pietro asked, reaching for the button. "That Cassidy guy is going to be pissed anyway. Might as well get screamed at sooner than later."  
Kurt batted his hand down. "Because I'm not sure if that's the door button or the cargo eject one. Vait until ve land, please."  
  
Jean startled awake as the jet touched down. Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she peered out the window to her left. Past the barbed wire security fence, there were barren plains broken only by the occasional tree or shrub. Everything in view was the same drab brown, as though faded or worn. Just miles and miles of miles and miles.  
She unbuckled her belt as the plane rolled to a stop, standing up. Leaning over the back of Sean's chair, she checked the view from the front window. She reached down and tapped the Irishman's shoulder.  
"You landed us right on the air base?"  
"O' course. Quicker an' less noticeable than landing in Denver," he told her.  
Good point. The last thing any of them needed was to try to explain their presence to airport security. She turned around, facing the back of the plane.  
Everyone was watching her. Jean wished that she could do something about the gloomy looks on their faces. Only Warren seemed unperturbed, but then he didn't really know any of the people being held by Magneto. She put on a determined face.  
"All right, guys. Logan is probably waiting out there, so I'll make this short. We're going in, getting our people and getting out again. We're not here to take revenge on Magneto and his cronies, got it?"  
There were nods all around.  
"Good. Now, Logan is waiting out there somewhere for us. He just spent the last day or so looking around this base. If he tells you to do anything or go anywhere, do it. He knows what he's talking about."  
"Uh, Jean?" Bobby poked his head around the back of the co-pilot's chair.  
"What is it?"  
"The scanners just picked up two people," he said, pointing at the console. Jean looked down, then out the front window. She had to squint against the glare, but she thought she could make out Logan's bulk against the summer sunlight. Who was that standing with him, though?  
Shaking her head, she went to turn back to the rest of the team. A surprised gasp from Bobby made her whip her head back.  
"Wait! Now there are four people!"  
There were a couple more blips on the scanner, right underneath the rear of the jet. Jean pursed her lips, frowning. Taking a deep breath, she quested out with her mind. What she found was unexpected.  
"I'm going to hurt those two," she grumbled.  
  
Kurt had the good grace to look embarrassed. He stared at the ground, doing his best to look cute and fuzzy and harmless as Jean verbally railed at him. It didn't seem to be working. The rest of the team was standing well back from her wrath, out of the line of fire. All right, so he'd done a stupid thing. What did she want him to do, teleport back to New York? As if that was even possible.  
"Look, Red, we're here now. Can we cut the crap and do what we all came here to do?"  
Kurt's eyes widened as Pietro spoke up defiantly beside him. He glanced to his side. The other teen was slouched against the plane with his arms crossed, his usual sneer in place. Jean looked like she was going to burst a vein. He'd never seen her this irate before and it was frightening. Jean moved into Pietro, glaring at him from less than a foot away.  
"Don't," she said, ramming a finger hard into Pietro's chest, "ever call me that again." She took a step back. "You two are going to stay with the jet."  
"Vhat! That's not fair!"  
Jean looked as though she was about to say something along the lines of 'life isn't fair' when Logan pushed through the assembled mutants.  
"No they're not," he said in a quiet voice. Kurt chanced a quick look up. Jean was staring at Logan with an unfriendly look on her face.  
"I'm not letting them go down there when they could be killed, Logan."  
The big man shrugged. "I won't let that happen."  
Kurt flinched as Jean's voice popped into his mind. 'We'll discuss this when everyone is safe at the Institute.' He nodded, not meeting her eyes.  
"All right, now that's settled," Logan said, turning to face the assembled mutants. Kurt moved around the man to stand with the rest of the group. He let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she'd forget about this after the Professor was rescued. He could wish, anyway.  
"You kids are standing on top of one of the largest underground complexes ever built during the Cold War," Logan was saying. "There's two entrances, one in each of those buildings. Jean, I want you to take Doug and Rahne into the old communications center," he said. Kurt could tell she was still very angry by her body language, but she nodded anyway.  
"I'll go with her. I promised Scott I'd watch out for her," Warren interrupted. Logan nodded at this.  
"Kurt, Pietro, LeBeau, you guys are coming with me into the barracks," Logan continued.  
"Wait a minute," Jean said. "You're taking Gambit in there with you?"  
A low chuckle slithered out from the shadows below the x-jet. Kurt spun around at the noise, hissing. Gambit stepped out from beneath the plane and the blue mutant blinked. Was that a bandage across the bridge of the guy's nose? He noted the way the young Cajun stepped carefully around Logan.  
"Why wouldn' I be goin' in wit' you?"  
Jean scowled. "Why would one of Magneto's Acolytes want to help us? Aren't you supposed to be out dominating the world?" she spat.  
Gambit chuckled again, reaching into his long frock coat. A puzzled look came over his face and he patted himself down.  
"Looking fer this?" Kurt glanced up to see a leather wallet being tossed over his head. Gambit caught it and flipped it open. Inside was a huge gold star in a circle and some kind of picture identification card. Kurt leaned closer, vaguely aware that everyone else was doing the same.  
"Vhat is that?" he asked.  
"The Louisiana choirboy here is a cop," Logan said over the sudden murmuring. Gambit - Deputy Marshal Remy LeBeau, Kurt read off the picture card - frowned.  
"Marshal, Wolverine. Deputy Marshal, not a 'cop,'" Gambit said.  
"Yeah, whatever. He's a fed, boys and girls, so he's on our side."  
With an impatient gesture, Logan got everyone's attention again.  
"Half-Pint, I want ya to phase Bobby and Sean through the rubble in the front of that underground hanger," he said. Kurt listened with only half an ear, instead peeking a little closer at the big star in Gambit's wallet.  
He reached out with a tentative finger. The brass was cool to the touch, even in the heat. "That is Marshal as in 'Gunsmoke,' ja?" he whispered to Gambit. The man didn't respond, just smirked and put the wallet away.  
  
Hank blinked tired eyes, staring at the computer screen without really seeing anything. He and Moira had spent nearly twenty hours working on an anti-venom and he was starting to get a little loopy. With a sigh, he picked up his improvised mug and took a sip of that vile homegrown coffee Ororo kept in the kitchen. It tasted like distilled battery acid and was unpleasantly lukewarm, but at least it was caffeine.  
"Why didn't I become a lawyer like my father wanted," he muttered to himself, wiping a huge hand across his face. He'd thrown everything but the kitchen sink at this thing since before dawn to no avail. Hank sighed and shut his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against the monitor.  
If he didn't find a solution, Charles was going to die. Simple as that.  
And from what the boy had told them just the other morning, so would everyone else who stood against Magneto in that hangar.  
Hank growled, the sound coming out far below the hearing range of a normal human. With a savage inarticulate cry, he slammed a fist on the lab table next to him. Damn it! There had to be some way to stop Magneto! Maybe Moira was having better luck in the biology lab next door. He beat his fist on the table again, feeling glass shatter underneath his huge hand.  
Hank opened his eyes, scowling at the table as though it had offended him somehow.  
Oh no.  
"Moira!" he bellowed. He raised his hand and pulled a shard of glass out of his flesh with a grunt. This wasn't good. Tilting the broken glass to the light, he could still make out a yellowish tint where it had been coated with a sample of the X-Venom.  
  
"Explain again why Logan wanted us to come in through the hanger," Bobby whispered in the dark. It was almost pitch black in the enclosed space and he definitely wasn't comfortable in this hole in the ground. Beside him, he felt Kitty shrug.  
"Probably using us as bait," she whispered back.  
"We're on a mission, laddie. It's Wolverine, no' Logan," came Sean's voice from the darkness. Bobby stuck his tongue out in the man's direction.  
"Then it's Iceman, not 'laddie,'" he breathed.  
Kitty elbowed him in the ribs and he sucked in a deep breath. Oh, wow, that was a mistake.  
"What is that god-awful stink?" he said a little louder.  
"Like, yuck," he heard Kitty say from somewhere off to his left. Then she screamed.  
Ok, screw the black ops thing. Bobby fumbled his flashlight off his belt, flicking it on. He regretted it an instant later as the powerful halogen bulb flared to life. He looked around wildly for Kitty. Sean had his light on a moment later and the pair of lights illuminated a war zone.  
That hunk of twisted metal behind them was the remains of the Professor's private jet. Bobby had seen it any number of times in the hangar at the Institute and would have recognized it even if the Professor's wheelchair hadn't been lying ten feet away from the ruined aircraft. He flashed his light around, looking for Kitty.  
Sean found her first, huddled against the wall a few yards off.  
"Wha' is it?" the man asked her. She pointed.  
Bobby looked at the very large heap she was gesturing at and his mind took several seconds to register the scene. His eyes widened when he recognized the size 42 Reebok canvas shoes. His vision swam as he forced himself to look at the rest of it.  
"Holy crap," he said, swallowing hard. "Is that...?" He finally looked away, back at Kitty. She nodded mutely, tears running down her face as she looked anywhere but at Fred's corpse.  
  
Logan held up a closed fist, stopping in the center of the hallway. Kurt nearly ran into his back, but was pulled up short by a hand on the back of his uniform. Right, fist means stop. He watched as the big mutant sniffed at the air. They'd made it through the barracks without encountering any of Magneto's goons and were now at the end of a long hallway that looked like something out of any war film. Stark grey cinder- block walls were lit by bare bulbs every dozen feet or so. Every so often there was a door, but so far all the rooms had been empty.  
Kurt noticed that every one of the rooms was lined with bunk beds. He'd mentioned this to Logan, who nodded and told him that this was the likeliest place to find any hostages. They hadn't so far, but there was a lot of hallway left.  
He looked around quickly when Logan growled.  
"What-is-it?" Pietro asked quickly.  
"Keep yer shorts on, speedy." Logan sniffed again. "Alvers is nearby."  
Kurt's heart flipped. They'd found someone?  
"Vhat are ve vaiting for?" he asked.  
"Because I also smell scum, Nightcrawler."  
[Snikt!]  
Logan looked back over his shoulder, past Kurt. "I think yer daddy's still hanging around," he said to Pietro. Kurt shared a look with the white-haired mutant. A flicker of motion caught his eye. LeBeau was snapping his staff into its full length.  
"We got mo' problems den Magneto, Wolvie. Yo' buddy Sab'etoot' be stalking us."  
  
Jean stood over Doug as he hammered away at the keyboard, lost in the scrolling lines of text on the huge monitor in front of him. Whatever Magneto was up to was in here somewhere hidden behind false trails and dead- ends in cyberspace.  
"Any luck?" Rahne growled from her position at the stairs leading to the subterranean level. She shook her head. "I don't know yet." She shared a glance with Warren, who was watching the only other door to the room.  
"Come on, Cypher," the little werewolf said. "I thought you were some sort o' hotshot with computers."  
"I am, I am," the boy half-muttered. He wiped a drop of sweat out of his eyes. "This isn't an iMac, Wolfsbane. It's a freakin' Cray-1 that's older than I am."  
Jean paced back and forth, letting him work whatever magic he had. She let her eyes unfocus as she sent her mind sweeping quickly through the air base. She'd had a fleeting moment of contact with the Professor a few minutes ago, but it had suddenly disappeared. She didn't want to think of the implications of that.  
"Wait, I got something."  
Jean turned around. A schematic diagram of some sort rolled across the screen. She frowned. It didn't look like anything she'd ever seen before.  
"That looks like a soda bottling plant," she heard Warren say with some surprise.  
What? "How could you possibly know that?" she asked without taking her eyes off the screen. Another floorplan scrolled past her eyes.  
"I am - that is, Worthington Enterprises is - one of the major bottlers for PepsiCo." Jean blinked and turned around. He shrugged at her. "Among other interests, of course. We own several plants that look just like that."  
Interesting. Jean tapped a finger on the screen. "Wait, stop moving it. What's that big red mark?" A feathery touch tickled her cheek as Warren leaned in for a look.  
"Looks like one of the syrup vats." He paused. Jean looked at him expectantly. "You don't think he's going to spike this soda with the X- Venom, do you?"  
Jean blanched.  
"I'll bet he has an antidote, too," the blond man said. At her blank look, he went on. "Think about how you described that white-haired kid's reaction to just a little dose. What would he have done for a way to stop hurting?"  
Oh no. If Warren was right, anyone who drank that would be affected by the venom. And if Magneto offered to give them a way to stop the effects, mutants all over the world would flock to his banner. 


	9. Showdown

------  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Greetings. Thanks for the reviews.  
To answer a couple questions and comments, I'm probably going to put the Kurt/Pietro thing on a back burner for a bit. Not that it isn't important, but rather it will take longer to develop. After all, we're all aware that Pietro is a bit of a stuck-up jerk. It will take a while to grind that away from him. Slash-o-phobes can breathe easier. ;) I might turn this into a series of fics, if I can find the time to write more.  
Oh, and those people who cringe at the mention of blood might want to skip this chapter entirely. Sorry.  
Cheers, folks.  
  
Jack  
  
------  
  
Jean scanned the corridor with her mind, searching out any psychic imprints she could find. Warren stood near her protectively, though there hadn't been any sign of Magneto or his flunkies. On impulse, she tapped her comlink. Static. The link had died almost as soon as the group had entered the base and she was positive that Magneto had done something nasty to the electronics.  
She stumbled, feeling Warren grab her arms before she could fall.  
"Careful there," he said quietly. Everyone was talking in hushed voices around here. Must be the scenery. This place looked like a city morgue, all stark walls and floors lit by bare light bulbs. She straightened. There had been a familiar mind, right...about...there.  
"Spread out, guys," she said. "Company coming."  
Rahne stalked forward, ducking into the next door frame on the right. All the doors they'd encountered so far had been nicely set about a foot into the walls. This made it a lot easier to sneak around if necessary.  
You know, like now.  
Jean motioned Doug to hide in another door frame as Warren turned to watch their backs. If she wasn't mistaken, that huge Russian guy would be along shortly. If they could take him down, perhaps they could wheedle more information out of him. Not for the first time, she wished that Scott or Hank were with her. How on earth were they going to nail a 500-pound man of stainless steel?  
"Where's a 600-pound gorilla when you need one?" she muttered, questing out with her mind. Too late, she realized Colossus wasn't alone. She reeled as another mind bit into hers, catching herself on the wall. Strengthening her defenses, she fought off the attack and looked for the source.  
It wasn't hard to find. A cry from Warren drew her eyes back the way they'd come. He was trying to avoid a woman with long auburn hair, ducking and dodging her attacks. Energy blades protruded from the woman's hands as she fought the large man. His wings were going to be a liability in this enclosed space, Jean saw.  
She grabbed the woman with her mind, trying to slam her against the wall. The quicker this one went down, the sooner they'd be able to concentrate on Colossus. She struggled, unable to get a mental grip. Just my luck, she thought. Of all the mutants Magneto could get, he had to find another telepath/telekeneticist.  
A shriek of nails on metal behind her announced that the big Russian had entered the fray. This was going to get messy in a hurry. A quick peek over her shoulder let her know that Rahne was doing her best to keep the guy's attention. If the girl wasn't careful, though, she'd be putty. It would only take one hit and she'd be down. At least Rahne seemed to have surprised him.  
"Angel," she cried, turning her attention back to the fight in front of her, "quit being gentle!" The tall man was evading the woman with ease, despite his cumbersome wings, but he wasn't trying to disable her at all. Why can't Magneto's bully-boys have this sort of hang-up about hitting women?  
She tried another tactic, wrapping her mind around the woman's feet. Maybe if she could get the woman unbalanced they could end this. It still wasn't working, though. The other telepath slipped her psychic bonds with ease, flaunting her agility. Warren jerked back from a stiletto-heeled boot to the head, wiping a thin streak of blood from his nose. He looked down at his hand as if unsure what he was seeing.  
The woman took advantage of the momentary hesitation and leaped into the air. Jean threw her entire mind into a shield, stretching her hands out toward Warren. Time slowed around her. She wasn't going to be able to hold this shield. Warren looked back up and flexed his wings, a low snarl erupting from his throat. Jean blinked in surprise. Sounded like the gloves were coming off.  
She watched, struggling to hold the shield in place, as he twisted to one side to present his side to the woman. His great wing unfurled and met the woman in mid-air. Time snapped back into motion. The woman was flung thirty feet down the hall, landing hard on her back. She didn't get up. Even at this distance, Jean could hear the wind being knocked out of her.  
"I've got her, Jean," Warren told her as he strode purposefully down the hall toward the prone woman. Good.  
Looking around, she saw that Rahne was still dancing around Colossus. The werewolf was panting heavily, she saw. She looked around for something - anything - with which to hit him. Nothing usable, unless she could rip one of these doors of the hinges. Rahne gasped in pain, staggering away from the big Russian.  
Jean bent her mind to the task, pulling mightily at the thick oak door next to her. It trembled but didn't come free.  
"Come here, Cypher!" she called. Perhaps if she had a little help she could get it loose. She had to do something and soon. Rahne was going to get smeared if this didn't work. Where was that boy? She continued jerking at the door, tipping her head back and gritting her teeth.  
An electrical cable on the ceiling above her wiggled slightly and went slack. Electricity? Oh, this could work. This could work really well. She stopped struggling with the heavy door and followed the electric cord down the hall toward the big steel man.  
Later, she would swear her heart stopped when she saw Doug sneaking up on Colossus with a stripped power cord in his hands.  
The lights throughout the entire hallway went dim for a full five seconds when the boy tucked the end into the Russian's shorts. With a massive cry, the metal man stopped in his tracks. The electricity continued zapping the big man as he fell slowly forward. Rahne ducked out the way, somewhat less nimble than usual but it was enough. The sound when he hit the floor reminded Jean of a car accident she'd witnessed a couple years ago.  
"Take that, ye buggering fool!" Rahne whooped, pumping her fist in the air. The girl exchanged a high-five with Doug.  
Apparently the boy had judged the length of the cord correctly. As soon as Colossus hit the floor, it popped out of his shorts and swung lazily in the air just above him. She felt Warren come up beside her and set a bundle on the floor. He'd hogtied the woman, who was still unconscious.  
"Wow," was all he said.  
"Yeah, wow." Jean sent her mind out. None of Magneto's other henchmen were around, but she caught a familiar brush of mind in a room just ahead. "Leave her," she said. "Rogue is just up the hall." Without looking back, she led the way. A thrill of satisfaction ran through her as Colossus twitched on the floor when she passed.  
  
"I've yer blood test here," Moira said, striding into the cramped lab. Hank looked up from his terminal, glancing at the broken glass on the table next to the computer. He unconsciously rubbed his bandaged left hand, suddenly nervous. The X-Venom wasn't having the effect on his mutated cells that the initial research had shown, but what if there was a delayed onset? He wasn't sure he wanted to see the new results. For all he knew, Moira was going to tell him he had a day to live.  
And yet, despite having a sizable portion of the venom coursing through his veins, he was feeling quite fine.  
Moira crossed the room in two steps, plugging the portable drive she carried into the back of his terminal. A moment later, the diagnostics of his blood test was called up on the monitor. How interesting, he thought. There doesn't seem to be a single trace of the venom.  
"Are you sure this is from this morning?" he asked her, scrolling down the list of chemicals she'd found in his blood. After a cursory look, he called up a similar list run on his stored blood.  
"Aye," she said. Leaning over him, she rapidly typed in a command. The lists started whittling down as matching items were eliminated. Hank picked up his mug, taking another sip of that Ororo's ultra-bitter home- brewed coffee.  
The eliminations took only fifteen seconds or so. Hank spluttered when he saw the single item left.  
"You can't be serious," he said, swishing the dregs of the coffee around. He looked into the mug, thanking his luck for brewing Ororo's special batch instead of his usual that morning.  
"Completely serious. Here," Moira told him, tapping another series of commands into the computer. "Look at this. I created a batch of this chlorogenic acid in the lab and filtered it into a sample of the venom." A movie file started playing.  
Hank scratched his head thoughtfully. Apparently Moira had recorded the view from the electron microscope onto the computer. He watched in silence as the acid ate through every last trace of the venom in the sample. She'd done it!  
Smiling up at her, he patted her hand. "We should give the kids a call and let them know about this," he said with a grin.  
  
Bobby crept forward, keeping a close eye on Kitty. He couldn't really blame her for tossing her cookies in the hangar. He'd wanted to do that himself but, having not eaten much at breakfast, could only manage dry heaves. Poor Fred, he thought. I can't believe Magneto killed him.  
The fact that the Blob was lying, rotting, in the hangar behind them cast a pall over their mission. He couldn't bring himself to make any smart remarks any more. Sean was handling this a whole lot better, but he was an adult. More experience, that sort of thing. Professor Xavier hadn't prepared any single one of current students for this. How do you train for tripping over a corpse in the dark?  
Bobby thought back to JHS167, where he'd gone to junior high school only two years ago. During his final semester there, one of his classmates had been killed in a gang war on the lower east side. Everything was normal one day, and then the guy just wasn't there after that. He hadn't had to look at the guy's body turning ripe in the summer heat.  
Fred, on the other hand, was going to stick with him a long, long time.  
  
Kurt watched as Logan flattened himself against the wall. The big man took a deep breath and darted his head around the corner and back. He'd been doing this ever since they'd gotten close to Magneto. Kurt supposed it was the safest way to go, but it was taking forever to move around.  
He risked a glance at Gambit. The wily Cajun was watching their back, three glowing playing cards tucked into one fist. So far the man had followed Logan's lead, but Kurt had to wonder at the wisdom of letting one of Magneto's allies help them out. Ok, former ally. Was the guy really an American police officer? He found that hard to believe, but Gambit did have the badge.  
[Snikt!]  
Wolverine's claws sliding out brought his mind back to the task at hand. Scenting the air once more, the big mutant beckoned them all closer.  
"There's another hangar around this corner," he said almost too quiet for Kurt to hear. He leaned in. "Our buddy Magneto is at the far end by a business jet with some broad in a white outfit. Might be that White Queen you mentioned, Quickie."  
Beside him, Pietro gulped. Kurt thought he saw Pietro's face go a little ashen. What had this woman done?  
"Sabretooth," Logan growled, "is about twenty feet away and we'll have to go through him first. I saw Alvers near the plane, and smelled Chuck and yer sister - didn't see them, though." He paused, fiddling with the communicator switch. "This thing still ain't workin', so we're going to have to go in ourselves." He looked at each of them sternly. "Sabretooth is mine, ya hear me?"  
Kurt nodded quickly. There wasn't enough money in the world to pay him to go toe to toe with that monster. Around him, the others did the same.  
"All right. Gambit, once we're in yer gonna have to start distracting Mags and his bimbo. Nightcrawler and Quicksilver will grab our guys and get them topside."  
And then he was gone, around the corner.  
Kurt exchanged a shocked look with the other two, then peeked around the corner.  
"Ach! Come on," he said. With another glance around the corner, he grabbed Pietro's elbow. That spot should do nicely.  
[Bamf!]  
Perfect landing, as usual. Kurt peered out from underneath the plane, eyeing the brawl on the far side of the room. Mein Gott, Logan looked downright savage as he tore into Sabretooth. He tore his eyes away with reluctance.  
Logan had been right. Lance was lying, shackled, in a heap about ten feet from the plane. Magneto and the White Queen were standing between the older boy and the fight. Where was the Professor, though? Logan said he smelled him, didn't he?  
Pietro stirred next to him. "I'll drag Lance under here with us," the white-haired teen told him. "Your teleport reeks. My father will be all over you if you just pop in and out."  
Kurt sighed, but Pietro had a point. That sulfurous stench was pretty much a calling card that he'd teleported nearby.  
"Fine. Be quiet about it, though," he said. He watched as Pietro started creeping out from under the plane. Now, to find the Professor. With a glance over his shoulder at Magneto, he pulled himself onto the wing and started peeking into the windows of the jet.  
  
Logan dodged aside as Sabretooth launched himself at him. If nothing else, he thought, I'm getting plenty of exercise out of this jerk. Ducking a wild overhand swing, he raked his claws along the bigger man's ribs. He bared his teeth in a feral grin at Sabretooth's howl of pain.  
"Having fun, bub?" he sneered at his archenemy, jumping back from another slash of Sabretooth's claws. He kept his back to the door through which he'd come, making sure the larger mutant's attention was focused on him. Kurt and Pietro materialized underneath the airplane. Good thinking, Kurt. Now he just had to keep Magneto and that lady of his from noticing them.  
Off to his left, a barrel of jet fuel went up in flames, exploding upward in a gigantic ball of fire. Gambit cackled, jinking and dodging the scattered debris and flicking more cards in Magneto's direction. Logan smirked. Had to admit that it was hard to keep an eye on prisoners when someone was firing grenade-like objects at you.  
Sabretooth leaped into the air, whipping his leg about in a flying roundhouse. Logan rolled forward, somersaulting underneath his adversary and coming to his feet. Crap. Keep your mind on your own fight, he thought to himself.  
Too late. "The prisoners!" Sabretooth bellowed in rage, pausing momentarily in his attack to point behind Magneto. Logan risked a glance over his shoulder. Double crap. Pietro had dragged Alvers under the jet to the far side, but Kurt was more or less framed in the open doorway of the plane.  
Have to finish this soon. The kids need me.  
"Gambit," he yelled. "Nightcrawler needs a little help over there."  
"Ah'm on it, mon ami."  
There was another explosion behind him, but Logan didn't exactly have the time to sit around and watch the show. Sabretooth took another swipe at him and he didn't block quite fast enough. The balled fist caught him on the side of the head and his vision blurred for a moment as he spun through the air.  
  
Kurt panicked. What was that colorful American saying? Oh, right.  
The scheisse [1] had just hit the fan.  
He ducked back inside the airplane, breathing hard. The Professor was still out cold, as was Pietro's sister. And he was running out of juice. A noise on the stairway let him know that Magneto or the White Queen was coming after him. This was going to hurt.  
Professor Xavier and Wanda were chained to seats on either side of the aisle in the plane. Kurt grabbed the girl's wrist, stretching out as far as he could. It was no use. He couldn't reach the Professor. He wasn't quite long enough.  
Long enough. Yes, he was.  
He released Wanda's wrist with moments to spare, snaking his tail around her instead. Whoever was on the outside was nearly there. He licked his dry lips, hesitating.  
"Going somewhere, boy?"  
Kurt's jaw fell open. Pietro hadn't told them that the White Queen was drop-dead gorgeous. The woman's white hair fairly glowed with a nearly metallic sheen. Her silk outfit whispered and slithered against her as she slowly walked up the aisle. She had the most amazing blue eyes, he noticed. Clear as the ocean outside his window in fact.  
"You don't have to leave, my dear," she told him in a sultry voice. "If Magneto can't find a use for you, I'm sure you'll find a home with the Hellfire Club." That sounded like such a good idea to Kurt. All he really wanted was to stop what he was doing and join this woman. His tail unwound itself from Wanda without thinking and he took a tentative step forward.  
A groan from the Professor cut through the fog of his thoughts and he blinked a couple times. Wait, what was he doing?  
"Don't you want to come with me, my dear Kurt?" the woman asked in the same voice. It wasn't as attractive now for some reason. He wrapped his tail around Wanda again.  
"Leck' mich, Gertrud! [2]" he snarled at the White Bitch. With a quick movement, he jumped across the rows separating Wanda and the Professor. The sound of his gloved hand slapping the shiny dome of the Professor's head was quite loud in the narrow cabin. Ah, success. And now for a parting gift.  
[Bamf!]  
  
Bobby rounded the corner first, which may have been a mistake. Oh jeez, he thought as he scrambled out of Sabretooth's way. He called his power into play as he stumbled against the wall, sheathing himself in living ice. His eyes bulged when he saw what happened next.  
Sean didn't bother dodging out of Sabretooth's way. Jogging lightly around the corner, the man took a single step into the air and hovered directly into the larger mutant's path.  
"Get outta my way, Banshee," Logan growled somewhere off to Bobby's side. Sean, Banshee, ignored him, hovering to a halt in front of Sabretooth. The Irishman looked at the leather-clad Sabretooth with a dismissive look.  
Then he opened his mouth.  
Bobby got his hands up to his ears just in time. Banshee let out the most unearthly shriek he'd ever heard, knocking Sabretooth a solid ten feet back and onto his butt. Bobby stared at the fallen mutant in fascination, then dragged his eyes to Magneto and the airplane beyond.  
Even at this distance, he could see Magneto's eye widen just before the man dove for cover behind a packing crate. Undeterred, the concussive wave tore through the air where the man had stood a split second before. Bobby winced as every window on the small business jet shattered at once, bursting inward to spray the interior of the plane with glass shrapnel. He gasped as the sheer force of whatever Sean was doing mauled the airplane. A dent the size of a manhole cover appeared in the fuselage with a horrendous groan.  
A hand touched his elbow and he flinched. Gambit pulled his hands away from his ears.  
"Come wit' me," the man told him. "We can grab Magneto if we act quick."  
Bobby looked back at Sean. The man was still hovering in mid-air, but at least he had shut his mouth. Catching Bobby's eye, he grinned widely.  
"Told ye it wasn't a power fer indoors, laddie."  
"Iceman, Banshee! Not laddie!"  
Sean gave him a flippant salute. Bobby rolled his eyes. They could all be killed or worse in the next few minutes and the man was making funny. Guess people react to stress in different ways. Might be nice to be able to just laugh off death that way. Oh well. Spreading his hands over Sabretooth, he covered the huge mutant from neck to shoes in ice.  
  
Kurt reappeared inside the airplane a minute after he'd left, thinking that the White Queen wouldn't have loitered once he'd teleported the Professor and Wanda out. Thankfully, he was right. The interior of the plane was a mess, thought. It seriously looked as though every window in the thing had exploded at once. Thank heaven he'd 'ported out when he did. The nearest seat was a mass of tattered fabric and cotton stuffing. He shuddered at what might have happened had be remained inside a moment longer.  
Crouching on all five, he moved forward to the entryway and peeked outside. Ah, good. Apparently the fight was more or less over.  
Magneto had his back to Kurt, along with the White Queen. The woman's immaculate white silk uniform was shredded along one side and he could see rivulets of blood dripping down one dainty arm. She must have still been inside the plane when it, when, well, when whatever happened.  
Ranged around the two mutants in a loose half-circle were most of the X-Men and their allies. Kurt wondered where Jean's portion of the team was, but clearly Logan and Sean had things under control. He straightened and stepped carefully down the stairs with a nod in Sean's direction. The Irishman gave him a thumbs-up.  
"Do you really think you can stop me?" Magneto was saying. Kurt moved off to one side, where Pietro was struggling with Lance's bonds. They'd need bolt cutters to get those things off. From the looks of it, Magneto had twisted a solid steel bar into a figure eight around the older boy's wrists.  
He looked at Magneto and the Queen. The woman was standing defiantly, left arm locked around her right bicep to staunch the bloody wound there. Magneto merely had his arms folded over his chest and had a most contemptuous look on his face.  
"Ye've got no choice, man," Sean lilted in a harsh voice. "Give yerself up now before someone else gets hurt."  
Magneto smirked evilly. "Oh really," he said with a chuckle. The man lifted his hand in an almost lazy gesture. Nails shrieked in protest as they popped, one by one, out of the crate next to his feet.  
[Snikt!]  
Logan's voice cut through the groaning metal. "Don't."  
"Or what?" Magneto asked. There was an amused tone to his voice that Kurt didn't like. He watched as the lid of the crate slipped back, but a grunt of pain from the other direction distracted him.  
Logan had taken a step forward and was standing utterly still now. His claws were sliding in and out of his arms one at a time in a strange pattern. Magneto chuckled again.  
"A skeleton of metal and he decides to attack me. How quaint."  
Kurt swallowed. There had to be something they could do.  
Magneto gestured with his hand again. A very large pump-action shotgun floated out of the crate, leveling itself at Logan. Kurt didn't even have time to react.  
"Let's see just how well that healing factor of yours works, shall we?" Magneto whispered in the tense silence. The shotgun pumped itself, looking for all the world like it was being held by the Invisible Man. The noise was very loud in Kurt's ears.  
Not as loud as the gunshot that followed. Logan made a surprised sound and fell to the ground. The shotgun pumped a second shell into the chamber and fired at the prone mutant. Again. Again. Again.  
Kurt had turned his head away after the second shot, but now he opened his eyes. Logan was lying in a spreading pool of blood and he wasn't moving. Fact is, the man's back looked like raw hamburger. Kurt gasped.  
"Mm. Pity, that," Magneto was saying conversationally to the White Queen. "He's had Weapon X conditioning, you know. He'd have been a great asset in the coming war." The man raised his hands out from his sides and made a negligent gesture at the shotgun. The gun dropped back into the crate.  
Kurt watched as a dozen syringes floated slowly up from the same crate. Oh boy.  
  
Bobby skidded to a halt behind a large steel drum. A metallic twang sounded as the needle he was evading buried itself in the barrel. He took a deep breath. Ok, this wasn't good. He peeked over the top of the drum, which held jet propulsion fuel. Yeah, and hiding behind a freakin' gas tank isn't much better, he thought. Everyone else was doing the same, running for cover.  
Wait a minute. I'm encased in ice. Those things probably can't hurt me.  
He stood up, less afraid. Lifting his arms, he prepared to turn the lady in white into a Popsicle. The woman turned his way, arching one lovely eyebrow. And then his brain throbbed as she smiled as him. He dropped a moment later, unaware of what hit him.  
  
Jean ran through the corridor as fast as she could. Good thing she'd gone out for soccer this year, she thought. Otherwise I'd have been left behind a long time ago. The Professor had apparently awakened, for she'd received a message and image from him not two minutes before.  
'Get to the hangar! Logan is in great danger!'  
And so here she was, running as though a life depended on her. That wasn't too far off the mark when she thought about it. Rahne had gone into her wolf form and was ahead of the rest of them. Warren, Doug, and Rogue were close behind. For some inexplicable reason, the Southern girl hadn't been drugged or worse. They would get there in time. Jean wouldn't have it any other way.  
Rounding a corner, she flung a hand up in surprise, stopping a syringe of green fluid less than a foot from her eye. A convulsive motion with her fist and the glass container shattered against the wall. She strode into the room, surrounded by an aura of her own power.  
"Stay back," she called over her shoulder. The other three would be vulnerable to this, having powers that were always in effect. The possibility of dying a horrid death would be enough to deter anyone else, but the girl was already moving quickly through the room.  
Taking a deep breath, Jean started plucking needles out of the air, ramming them home in wooden crates or breaking them against the walls. There were a few that she couldn't turn aside and she knew Magneto was fighting against her. For those needles, she simply squeezed the glass with her mind until it shattered.  
A mind brushed against hers and she knew the woman next to Magneto was going to try to attack her with psychic powers. Boy, was that one in for a rude awakening.  
Being a telepath means having a highly advanced mind, and so Jean found it rather effortless to keep her shield-bubble in place. She concentrated, of course, but on a subconscious level. The same was true about her psychic shield.  
Jean smirked as the woman Pietro had called the White Queen gasped and grabbed at her temples. Looks like she found my booby trap. Time to end this.  
'ENOUGH!' she mentally projected.  
  
Kurt cradled Logan's bleeding - and heavy - body to himself, teleporting around the hangar in an attempt to evade Magneto's assault. Whatever else was going on, he knew what would happen if Logan was hit by one of those things.  
Oh yeah. He knew there was a reason he hated getting shots.  
So many teleports in so little a space of time was having a serious effect on him, however. He made one final port, coming to a halt on top of the plane. Panting with the effort, he carefully lowered Logan to the roof of the jet and fell to his haunches beside the man. Logan didn't look any better. He thought the man had healing power out the wazoo, but it sure didn't seem to be working. At least the guy was breathing, if shallowly. Wasn't that a good sign?  
He flinched violently as Jean's mind tore through his.  
'ENOUGH!'  
All movement stopped. Well, most of it. Bare needles, some still attached to the broken remains of glass reservoirs, clattered to the ground.  
"You're finished, Magneto," Jean said, her clear voice ringing through the wide hangar.  
Magneto laughed from somewhere below Kurt. It was a truly demented sound.  
"You're right," he told her in a calm voice. "I believe I'll be going now."  
Kurt crouched over Logan, instinctively protecting the man as Magneto floated up almost directly in front of him. The White Queen was holding his hand, hovering under Magneto's power as the two floated gently toward the wide hangar doors. Magneto raised a hand and the door bent outward. Kurt shielded his eyes from the sudden glare of sunlight.  
Logan coughed thickly, spraying Kurt with blood and thicker things. The sound turned Magneto's head and Kurt cringed as the man frowned. A very, very large syringe with a needle nearly a foot long floated up from somewhere below the roof of the plane. It hovered closer and closer to Kurt. Kurt saw it shake and twitch in midair a couple times.  
"Ms. Grey, this is a chromium needle, not one of those cheap glass ones." The needle in question steadied, and then moved forward again. "And I am the Master of Magnetism. Please don't try that again." A sad smile came over his face. "I'm afraid that one of you is going to have to be an example for the rest of you pitiful people. Wolverine should do quite nicely," Magneto said.  
Kurt hunched, covering as much of Logan's broken body as he could.  
"Over my dead body," he hissed at Magneto. The man shrugged without changing expression.  
"If need be." The needle shot toward Kurt, who closed his eyes and braced himself.  
  
Jean watched helplessly as three things happened.  
First: Rogue stripped off a glove and grabbed Warren's wrist for a brief moment. The pale girl gasped, eyes widening in shock, and gritted her teeth in pain. An odd sound, similar to that of tearing cloth filled the quiet room for an instant.  
Wings sprouted from Rogue's back, big beautiful wings, and Jean realized that the sound was only partially her clothing being ripped. Blood dripped from the feathers as Rogue beat her new, powerful wings into motion and leapt into the air.  
With a savage cry, the girl reached out toward Magneto, who reeled away from her bare hand toward the door.  
Second: a series of glowing playing cards shot over her head. Gambit must have been behind her. The cards exploded in midair, driving Magneto and the White Queen out of the hangar into the bright summer sunlight. Rogue dodged aside as the cards blew up in her path.  
Third: Pietro, whom everyone seemed to have forgotten, scurried into motion from his hiding place near a doorway to her left. With a couple long strides he moved in a near-blur, running across the hangar toward the plane. He jumped onto the wing, never breaking stride and flung himself into the path of the needle.  
An eerie silence settled over the room.  
[Bamf!]  
  
[Bamf!]  
Kurt knelt between Logan and Pietro, surrounded by the rest of the X- Men. Logan was healing on his own. Instead Kurt stared at Pietro's back, where the needle had tented the fabric of his uniform. The syringe was so long, and the white-haired teen was so thin and malnourished, that it had driven right through him. Someone vomited in the background.  
Pietro coughed, blood leaking from his lips to trickle down his cheek. He blinked a couple times, slowly, staring at nothing in particular. His skin was coated in a light sweat and was faded nearly white. Kurt felt a sour taste come into his mouth and he swallowed hard.  
He stared helplessly at Jean, who knelt at Pietro's back. Reaching out with a tentative finger, she brushed the needle. Pietro shuddered and he squeezed his eyes shut.  
"Oh, shit," he wheezed. "That really hurts."  
  
------  
  
Yeah, before you ask, the White Queen was indeed using her telepathy on Kurt to make herself seem like a succubus. If I had that kinda mental power you can be sure I'd be doing the same thing.  
  
Translations:  
  
[1]: Fairly obvious. Next!  
  
[2]: "Kiss my ass, you bitch!" I've no idea where Kurt such foul language, but this is just another delightful example of my grasp of obscene German slang. Apologies to anyone offended. 


	10. Epilogue: From the Diary of Jean Grey

------  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Greetings.  
This seemed like a decent spot to end this fic. As you read this, you'll probably notice I've left a few loose ends. Rest assured there will be a sequel. Keep those comments coming and don't hesitate to e-mail or instant message me if you wish. :)  
I have two sequels in progress, 'The Long Road' and 'Queen's Side Castle.' Details can be found on my author's page, but the short version is that the first one will concentrate on Pietro's healing process, getting inside his mind; the second will introduce a new threat to the X-Men.  
Cheers, folks.  
  
Jack  
  
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"...and then we landed in the hangar at the Institute.  
"Mr. McCoy and Doctor MacTaggart were waiting for us when we arrived with several stretchers and wheelchairs. His hand was bandaged, but he seemed to be in a great mood. Glad someone was. The two of them whisked Pietro, Wanda, Lance, Rogue and the Professor to the clinic almost before you could blink.  
"Scott was also there, along with Alex. I went to him as soon as the plane landed. He wrapped his arms around me and just held me, not saying anything at first. I knew there was a reason I loved him. He didn't spout any false words of comfort or try to sound patronizing. Just held me as I cried my eyes out. I'd done my best to fill his shoes and it wasn't quite enough. I asked later how he'd gotten back to New York so quickly. He said that Alex's foster parents footed the bill, but he was going to have to work a long time to pay that back.  
"Alex insists that Scott doesn't have to do that, but we all know how Scott's sense of morality works. If he feels he owes a debt, it will get paid.  
"A week after we returned to school, CNN covered a massive explosion at a Shasta Beverages, Inc. installation in northern California. Apparently someone blew up a section of the bottling plant. I don't know if it was Magneto or this group Gambit is attached to, but I guess we don't have to worry about drinking pop any time soon.  
"Logan healed completely before we touched down in New York. He looks the same as ever and is just as grumpy. Apparently he hadn't been worried about being hit with five ten-gauge slugs. Said it had happened before. All he needs is a good night's sleep and he'll be ready to go back to training the rest of us with his customary abruptness. I wish the man would stop coughing up lead shot, though. He keeps spitting out these tiny little pellets at the dinner table and it's really disgusting.  
"Gambit - Marshal Remy LeBeau - disappeared before we got in the air. I think Professor Xavier would have wanted to talk with him, but he never got the chance. No one is really sure if he's a part of that new Federal super-hero team. I don't know if we're better off with him as a cop or as an enemy. I do know that we owe him big time.  
"Not unexpectedly, Warren went back to the City the morning after we returned. Working with a team was a nice change of pace, he told me, but he preferred working alone. I think he was uncomfortable working with a bunch of people who weren't even old enough to vote. Maybe he'll team up with that Spider-Man or Daredevil who've been in the papers lately. Or maybe he'll just go back to his solitary ways. There's something eating at his conscience, but I didn't ask or pry. I hope he finds happiness soon.  
"Doug and Rahne are getting along fabulously. Out of all of us, I think they're the only ones who came out more or less intact. I caught them the other night in the rec room watching a Monty Python movie or something with John Cleese in it. Maybe 'A Fish Called Wanda.' Whatever it was, she was surprised that he hadn't been introduced to British comedy and was having a lot of fun starting his education. Doug hasn't quite got a firm grasp on his powers, however. Every once in a while we catch him talking with a thick Scottish accent, using words he couldn't possibly have learned in Middle America. It's driving Scott up a wall, since there isn't a dictionary lying about.  
"I think he'll fit in just fine.  
"Sean and Doctor MacTaggart have offered to stay at the school for the upcoming year. Now that the danger is more or less passed, it's fairly obvious they're an item. Something about seeing the two of them together sets the Professor's teeth on edge. He won't talk about it, though. I'm beginning to wonder if Professor Xavier wasn't involved romantically with Doctor MacTaggart at some point in the past. Oh well. It's really none of anyone's business.  
"For his part, the Professor is fine. Magneto hadn't bothered to do anything worse than drug him senseless most of the time. Apparently his helmet is sufficient protection from the Professor's highly-powerful mind. The drugs were mostly for the benefit of the White Queen and that other British woman, Psylocke. Apparently the Professor did indeed wipe the psychic floor with them during the fight that started this whole mess. Magneto was just trying to keep his women intact.  
"No one has heard from Magneto since the fight. S.H.I.E.L.D. is holding his Acolytes in their most secure facility. Doesn't look like they're a problem for the time being. Still, with Magneto and the White Queen on the loose, we can be sure that something nasty will pop up. The Professor is worried about the Queen's involvement. He seems to know her from somewhere and doesn't like the fact that she sided with Magneto. Maybe he'll enlighten the rest of us one of these days. I've never seen him so brooding before.  
"We found Bobby lying behind a canister of jet fuel. He's been in a coma ever since. "The Professor thinks one of Magneto's tame telepaths did something to him. He's been probing deep into Bobby's mind for several hours a day ever since we returned. No luck so far, but he's optimistic as usual. He promises that Bobby will be fit enough to start the new school year.  
"Kitty and Kurt both got treated for shock. Sean told me that Fred is dead and that Kitty found the body. I guess it was just too much for her, because she's now having counseling sessions with the Professor. Kurt seemed to have pulled through ok, though. I just wish he'd get out more. He's spent all his time in the basement clinic sitting beside one or another of the people laid up down there. He's starting to withdraw more than usual, which is never a good sign. On the other hand, he hasn't bothered wearing his image inducer since we got back. Perhaps it just hasn't crossed his mind.  
"Rogue was up and about a couple days later. The wings she'd grown receded on the plane, where she collapsed. The bloody holes in her back were a sight I'll never forget. It didn't take long for her to find a practical application for her power, however, because the first time Logan visited her in the clinic, she stole a little of his healing power and moved back upstairs. Unfortunately, she also managed to grab just the teensiest part of his personality as she did so. The rest of us had to avoid her for a while because that girl suddenly had a mouth on her. More so than usual, I mean.  
"Kitty started complaining that their shared bedroom was starting to smell like cigarette smoke, so I guess that means she also picked up one of Logan's filthier habits too.  
"We didn't find any sign of Pyro or Todd. There's still hope, I think.  
"Wanda and Lance were both treated by Mr. McCoy with an anti-venom. They're both fine. They didn't use their powers at all once they'd figured out that it meant tearing themselves apart. Smarter than I'd pegged either of them. Wanda in particular has been spending most of her waking hours at Pietro's bedside. Lance spends most of his sitting on the cliff in the backyard. Neither of them is willing to talk about what Magneto did.  
"Neither of them has gone back to the Brotherhood house, etiher. Scott and Alex went over there a few days ago to gather some items. Scott in particular looked positively ill. Apparently the boys and Wanda have been living in a hovel. He's going to ask the Professor if the three of them can move into the school. He hasn't said as much, but I know Scott and have no doubt that he's just building himself up for the right moment. It's just something he would do.  
"We pulled the needle out of Pietro's back before getting on the airplane. It seemed like the thing to do at the time. Doctor MacTaggart turned out to have a medical degree as well as several others and she went ballistic when we got him back to the institute. The argument she had with the Professor was behind closed doors, but we're all aware that she's really torqued at "the idea of sending children into battle." Her words, not mine. Magneto's weapon had pierced several organs on the way through Pietro's body but, more devastating, it also bruised his spinal cord. He woke up a couple days after the first surgery, screaming. We could hear him throughout the entire mansion.  
"Doctor MacTaggart said last night at dinner that he'll have to go through rehab if he wants to walk again. The table went very quiet and no one had much of an appetite after that. I think everyone who was there in the hangar was under the delusion that Magneto could have redirected the needle. I know better. I saw his eyes. I don't think there's any trace of the man the Professor calls Erik Lensherr behind the mask any more.  
"There's only Magneto."  
  
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Finis.  
  
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Coming soon:  
'Queen's Side Castle:' A field trip to upstate New York turns sour when the Hellfire Club makes an appearance on the scene. Emma Frost and Sebastian Shaw are up to no good. As usual.  
'The Long Road:' Pietro finds himself laid up for months as his spinal injury heals. Professor Xavier and the rest of the students do their best to integrate the remaining Brotherhood into their world, but it's a very rough time all around. 


End file.
